


I'm Thinkin' About My Doorbell

by RurouniHime



Series: Doorbell series [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Crush, Ensemble Cast, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Music, Pining, Roommates, Slow Build, ultimate frisbee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-27
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RurouniHime/pseuds/RurouniHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trouble is, Jensen’s sort of in love with a guy he’s never even spoken to. (otherwise known as the one where Jared plays Ultimate, Jensen appreciates slugs, and Santa Cruz is just weird.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As a proud alumnus of UC Santa Cruz (and Porter College), I just had to toss the boys into the mix. This is chock-full of fond, self-indulgent memories from my years there. ^__^
> 
> Title from My Doorbell by The White Stripes.

“Alright. Best sex ever. Chad?”

Out in the living room, Chad laughs. “Elana Morrissey, last week. Every surface in the apartment, yo.”

Aldis snorts. “Remind me to never set foot in your apartment again. Mike?”

Jensen peers over the top of his book from where he’s sitting in his room. He can just see Mike’s bald head over the back of the couch. Mike spends so long counting on his fingers and muttering names that Aldis waves him off. “Damn, dude, never mind.”

Jensen drops his eyes back to the page he’s pretending to read and shakes his head. From what he’s heard about Mike, this turn of events is not surprising.

Tom says the name Jamie without even stopping to think, and everyone ribs him for being whipped by his girlfriend.

“Yeah, at least I have one,” Tom shoots back with a smug grin. “You all should be so lucky.”

Jared guffaws from the couch. Jensen scoots his chair a little closer to the doorway of his room. He’s got a straight shot into the living room like this.

Another guy goes, detailing a raunchy set of events that Jensen could have done without ever hearing. Chad gets in an argument with Tom about why being a ladies’ man beats out being strapped to one girl by a landslide. Jensen rolls his eyes and gets up to grab a coke from the kitchen. This fight will take several minutes to fizzle out, like it always does.

Except Aldis cuts them off while Jensen is still at the fridge. “Okay, okay, shut up. It’s the baby’s turn.”

A howl goes up from the group, and Jensen almost loses his grip on his soda can.

It’s Jared’s nickname, courtesy of Mike, because Jared’s the only sophomore to stick out the initial Ultimate try-outs. He’s also taller than all of them, even Tom and Aldis, but that hasn’t stopped the name from sticking.

Jensen listens with baited breath.

“Dudes,” Jared says with a short laugh. “I don’t kiss and tell. It’s rude.”

More ribbing. Jensen turns around. He has to see.

Jared’s grinning that half-grin of his, swaying as the guys jostle him back and forth.

“C’mon, Baby,” Chad wheedles, “you _have_ had sex before, right?”

Jared straightens, looking at Chad through narrow eyes. “Yes, I have, you ass.”

Jensen grabs a plate from the drying rack, along with a towel, intent on looking occupied. He’s not sure if he wants an answer. He expected some girl’s name and now he’s got a big unknown.

“Hey, weren’t we heading to Saturn Cafe for burgers?” Aldis says, because Aldis is a peacemaker in a pinch.

Everyone forgets about Jared’s non-answer and starts clambering around for shoes and sweatshirts.

“Jen, wanna come with?” Aldis calls, craning his neck to look through the kitchen doorway.

Jensen turns. “Uh, no, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alright, see ya.”

They’re filing out the door. Jensen’s pulse hammers. “Hey, have fun!”

The door closes on a mix of responses. If Jared contributed, Jensen couldn’t tell.

**

The trouble is, Jensen’s sort of in love with a guy he’s never even spoken to.

Jensen’s not an idiot, and he is twenty-two years old: he knows it’s not real love or whatever, just a massive crush that has him completely discombobulated. It’s doubly intense because Jensen doesn’t even go for this guy’s type, and he _doesn’t_ have a habit of going all teeny-bopper psycho over someone he’s never properly met. But this guy came out of nowhere _and_ deep left field at the same time, and Jensen has no idea what the hell his brain is doing these days because of it, but honestly, never in his right mind would he have—

Okay, wait. Starting over.

**

Well, not _over_ over, because the fact that Jensen Ross Ackles was born in Richardson, Texas with a perturbed pout on his face doesn’t matter at all at this juncture.

He doesn’t know how he scored a jock housemate this year. He was too busy to bother with off-campus housing— mostly because Santa Cruz’s housing market is pictured under “extortion” in the dictionary— and he was pretty clear on his accommodations application regarding what he was looking for in terms of housemates. But he and Aldis actually click.

Misha’s there, too, but that’s not the point.

The first two weeks, Aldis isn’t really around anyway because Ultimate is freaking hardcore: practices twice a day most of the time, even though it’s classed as a club sport. When Aldis comes home, he never leaves his sweaty clothing where Jensen can smell or see or trip over it, and he’s surprisingly fastidious in the shared kitchen and bathroom. (Misha is also fastidious, but his habits are way too bizarre for Jensen to get a handle on yet. Suffice it to say that when Misha does come out of his room, Jensen prepares for brief and startling upheaval.) Jensen and Aldis both have baby sisters who they just don’t _get_ , and Aldis understands the whole “yes, sweety, that sounds like a great hobby, but are you sure that’s what you want to do with your life?” approach on the part of their respective parents, who want their sons to be doctors, not professional musicians. With Aldis, it’s doctors versus philosophers, but yeah: the guy gets it.

Jensen only plays his guitar— and his piano and his rented vibraphone— during the afternoons while Aldis is at Ultimate practice, and saves his quiet homework for later in the evening because Aldis has a shitload of huge texts by Marx and Kant and Foucault and Thoreau stacked on the coffee table, and no one wants to face those guys while listening to someone picking out an A-flat diminished chord fifty times in a row in the next room.

(Again, he has no idea when or how Misha leaves or returns home. He’s never witnessed either scenario.)

But Jensen’s a considerate guy. So he’s a little pissed off when the Thursday night before his first exam in Japanese 4 finds extra guys in Aldis’ room laughing their asses off at the tops of their collective lungs.

It’s eleven-fucking-thirty. He’s got a class at eight AM (because it makes so much sense to schedule classes involving foreign insults, quadratic equations, and Bunsen burners before anyone is actually alert, but whatever).

Jensen stumbles out of bed and stomps into the hall, cursing jocks in general and Ultimate Frisbee players specifically as he makes for the kitchen. (Alright, it’s a stupid set up for an apartment, with the kitchen between their two rooms. Jensen’s heard that this bank of apartments was designed by the architecture majors at Kresge College, so there you go.)

There’s someone at the sink. Jensen flips on the light and nearly goes blind at the sudden flare. When he can see again, he finds himself across the room from a guy wearing a dark blue banana slug shirt and holding a glass of water in one hand.

Dude’s really _tall_. Jensen blinks and rubs his face right as Aldis’ room erupts in raucous guffaws. Jensen gets angry all over again and opens his mouth to cuss the guy into oblivion just for existing. But in that same second, the guy glances at Aldis’ door and winces visibly.

It’s enough. Jensen cools down so rapidly he sways on his feet. It’s really bright. That’s when it occurs to him that this guy didn’t even switch on the light to get his water. Jensen’s brain turns itself up one more notch, to the level of meeting unexpected politeness with equal civility.

“Sorry, I…” The guy gestures at his drink and rakes a hand through his hair. He’s disheveled, probably here straight from practice, whenever that was. “Needed some water. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Dude’s _really_ tall. His hair is longish and his face is— yeah, very nice. Jensen shakes his head. “You didn’t. They did.”

The guy cringes again and puts his glass down on the counter with a little bang. He’s… jeez, he’s good looking. Muscle tone and wiry frame and big, unassuming eyes.

“Look.” Jensen coughs. “I have an exam in Japanese tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the guy breaks in, “yeah. I’m so sorry, I’ll shut them up, man, I swear.”

And he leaves the kitchen, just like that. Jensen hears him cut through the chatter in Aldis’ room, and things immediately go quiet. Jensen’s left with the memory of a deep voice.

He hits the light switch and makes his way back to his room. Halfway to bed, Jensen realizes just how _hot_ that guy was, how Jensen was in the same room with him, and _god_ , his _eyes_.

What?

**

So maybe they have actually spoken. It doesn’t count, though, because Jensen doesn’t know if he was truly all that polite in the end, and he’s still in the dark about the guy’s name.

He just knows that he likes him. A lot. He hasn’t had this sort of reaction since the day he saw Danneel Harris for the first time on the playground and chased her until she wheeled back and kicked him in the shins.

**

He sees the guy everywhere after that, because he’s slightly insane. Obviously. Most of the time it’s not the same guy at all: too short, not buff enough, playing on the soccer team instead of on the Ultimate team, actually a really boyish-looking girl… etcetera. Jensen goes to class like normal, skirting his way around froshies who have taken it upon themselves to escort wayward banana slugs off the footpath into the bushes.

Man. Only in Santa Cruz.

He gets into the groove of knowing he’s got a thing for a guy while not being in a position to do anything about it, just enjoying the experience of tumbling head over heels for another person, whom he will probably never see again. It’s nice. Makes him feel warm and snuggly, and that’s pretty handy when the fog blows in from Monterey Bay at night and makes him shiver from the inside out.

But Aldis has another mini-soiree, and Jensen finds the guy in his house once again. Smiling. Laughing. Sitting there looking totally relaxed and gorgeous.

He eavesdrops long enough to determine (through the process of elimination) that the guy goes by the moniker of Jared, mostly because Chad is the whacked out one who acts like he’s constantly high, and Jensen knows Mike and Tom already from Classic Mythology 301, sophomore year. So now he has a name to go with a face. It doesn’t exactly make his situation easier.

It rains, hard, in early October. Jensen is moving his car. He’s got a pass for the main lot, but he’s been parking over at Oakes on the weekends because they never monitor it, and it’s closer to his Saturday class— yes, he is taking a Saturday class. So sue him. He’s a responsible, dedicated fourth-year music major, so there.

At any rate, he’s taking his car across the top of the hill and down toward the main lot so he doesn’t get ticketed, hoping he’s got his umbrella with him so he can wait for the shuttle back to Porter in comfort. And there, standing at the Science Hill bus stop, is Jared. He’s drenched. Completely soaking. Honest, Jensen can see the water sluicing down his face and arms from where he’s paused at the stop sign. It’s not a cold rain— never really a cold rain— but it’s a heavy one, and Jared’s dressed in shorts and a tank top, with a measly hoodie that’s already dripping.

Jensen needs to not think about this. He flicks his turn signal on before he can find a reason not to, and then he has to follow through. Because other drivers will get mad if he doesn’t. Never mind that there are no other cars on the road right now.

The rain’s coming down so hard it’s difficult to see through the windows. Jensen has to flop over the parking brake in an ungainly fashion because his windows aren’t automatic.

“Hey,” he calls once the passenger-side window is sufficiently lowered.

There’s a second’s pause, then Jared bends down to look through the open window. Which is getting a crapload of rain all over the passenger seat. So that’s fun.

Jared’s eyes widen. “Hey, uh…”

“Jensen,” Jensen supplies. He clears his throat. “We haven’t really met. I live with Aldis Hodge?”

“Right.” Jared’s expression clears. “Hey, again.”

“Look, you want a ride? I saw you and… it’s brutal out there.” He can’t believe he’s actually getting the words out coherently.

Jared glances around, then frowns down at Jensen. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m soaked. I’ll mess up your seat.”

Jensen snorts and tries not to blush. “Nah. These seats are old. Gives them more character. Besides, that one’s already wet.”

Jared takes another second, then opens the door and scrambles inside the car. He immediately cranks the window up. “Thanks. So much, man, you have no idea.”

Jensen almost forgets to check his side mirror before easing out onto the road again. “It’s no problem. I mean, I’ve got a car. Might as well use my super power for good, right?”

It sounds so dorky, but Jared laughs. “I envy you, believe me.”

“You and the rest of Aldis’ friends,” Jensen quips. Jared chuckles, and it’s a little awkward after that. Jensen grips the wheel. “So, uh. Where to?”

“I’m at Stevenson,” Jared answers. Another difference; maybe Jensen’s got his head in the sand, but all the other jocks he’s met are at College 8. Well, besides Aldis.

“Porter,” Jensen says, and then feels like an idiot. Duh. Jared’s been to their place.

“Yeah,” Jared says with another small laugh.

It’s not a long drive to Stevenson from Science Hill, but it feels like it’s twenty miles. Jensen is very aware of Jared dripping all over the passenger side of the car, the way the water glistens on his wrists and runs in rivulets under the collar of his hoodie.

“Porter Run should be taking off,” Jensen says without thinking, and Jared perks up.

“So that’s actually true?” he asks. “Damn, I thought Aldis was just fucking with me!”

Jensen grins. “Nope. First rain of the school year. Beware of naked people in the woods.”

They’re already at Stevenson Circle. Jensen pulls to a stop and drops the stick into neutral.

“But you’re not participating.” It’s a statement, and Jared stares at him as he says it. Jensen has to think for a moment before—

“ _Oh_. No, I’m purely a spectator.” Okay, that sounds so wrong. Jensen kind of wants to smack his head on the windshield.

But Jared just shrugs. “Good. I was afraid it was required or something.”

“No, but…” Jensen hedges, then decides to go for it. “The Cowell and Stevenson folks have been known to join in.”

Jared laughs for real, and his face lights up in a way Jensen hasn’t seen yet. “Think I’ll pass. Hey, man, thanks for the ride. Really. You’re a lifesaver.”

He opens the door and gets out into the rain, then leans back into the car. “You should come see one of our games. We’ve got a tournament this weekend. I bet Aldis would love a cheering section.”

“I’m not really that into sports.” Dumb. So dumb. Holy hell, Jensen is a loser.

Jared smiles awkwardly. “Oh. Well… Still. We’re gonna kick some ass. So I hear.”

Jensen smiles back. “Okay. I’ll see what I’ve got going on.”

“Cool.” Jared grins, then straightens with a wave, and shuts the door. Jensen watches him jog toward the buildings, until he disappears around a corner.

**

Jensen goes to the tournament on Friday afternoon. And then again on Sunday. The Slugs are still in the thick of it by the third day, so Jensen assumes they must be pretty good, but he really has no idea what’s going on other than that the game involves a Frisbee and the whole point is similar to football. He thought it would be easy to pick up just by sitting on the grass and watching, but he’s sort of distracted. A little.

(Though it might just be him. When Jensen did a quarter abroad in London, he and his housemates watched a whole hour of cricket and were no closer to understanding it at the end than they’d been when they first turned the TV on. They cheered like mad, regardless.)

Jared’s on the field a lot. He flips the Frisbee with great accuracy every time: underhand, overhand, even in a spike. Jensen’s breath catches often; he claps when the other observers clap and cheers when the Slugs score a touchdown. He doesn’t care if they actually call it that; it looks like a football touchdown, so that’s what he’s calling it.

The next time Jared gets the Frisbee, though, he’s straight-up tackled by a big guy on the other team. Jensen’s pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen, mostly because no one else has been slamming other players into the dirt. He looks on worriedly as the sports doc checks Jared out where he’s sitting on the ground, and after a minute, Jared gets to his feet and wobbles off the field. Jensen’s sigh of relief is cut short by an enthusiastic shout to his right.

“Yeah, Jared! Woohoo! Nice faceplant!”

There’s a tiny, beautiful girl jumping up and down, her dark hair in braids, wearing a smile so wide it’s a wonder her face can contain it all. Jared laughs and gives her a wave. She pumps her fist and claps as Aldis gets the penalty throw.

When the game’s over, Jared leaves his teammates and grabs his personal cheerleader in a hug that lifts her right off the ground. Jensen looks away until they’re done, and by then Aldis is clapping him on the back and expressing his surprise that Jensen’s there.

“Hey, we’re going downtown for dinner after the last game,” Aldis announces. “Pizza My Heart. You want in?”

Jensen likes any excuse to go to Pizza My Heart. He’s slowly collecting shirts for his extended family and, apparently, all of his sister’s friends. “Yeah, sounds good.”

**

But he’s not exactly an athlete, and when they all finally get crammed into three booths, Jensen feels out of his element. He’s next to the cheerleader girl; she’s nice and she talks a lot, even if Jensen doesn’t really hold up well in conversations with people he’s just met. He’s good at watching others, though, and takes his cues from the group for an hour before he feels like his presence is basically going unnoticed.

That’s okay. It’s the perfect opportunity to pick up a copy of Fuck This Book. His friend Chris has been raving non-stop about the website, and Jensen’s dying to get his hands on one for Josh. He can just imagine his older brother’s face when guests visit his lovely little suburban bungalow and pick up Fuck This Book from his coffee table. Jensen’s not even going to give it to Josh. He’s just going to slip it under some magazines next time he visits.

He’s telling Josh’s fiancée Gloria, though, because she’ll totally take photos and put them on Flickr.

He lets Aldis know he’s heading down the street to buy a book and squeezes out of the booth. Outside, the air is cool and smells heavily of the ocean. There are a lot of people downtown tonight. A show is just getting out at the Del Mar and Jensen crosses the street to avoid the crowd.

The book’s at Camouflage. Jensen’s only been in a couple times (he doesn’t really wear lacy panties or have the need to buy a boa, after all) but the salesgirls are laid back like they’ve seen everything under the sun, and they probably have. Plus, Camouflage has awesome costumes around Halloween. Chris said the book is in the back room, and Jensen would normally feel weird surrounded by studded dildos and bins of vagina lollipops, except there are people heading in and out of the room in droves, so it’s not like anyone’s staring.

He finds the book immediately: easy to spot something that’s atomic pink. The salesgirl laughs out loud and praises his choice when he sets it on the counter, then slides it into a discreet black bag and rings him up.

“Free condoms this month,” she says cheerfully, pointing at a bin that looks like it tumbled out of Candyland. Jensen grabs a handful to appease her and heads out. He’s in the midst of cramming them into his pocket when he gets to the front door, and slithers out while a girl holds it open for her friends. He folds the top of the bag over, turns back in the direction of Pizza My Heart, and comes face to face with Jared.

Whose eyebrows are very high on his forehead. He’s also got a bag in his hands, but it plainly says Pacific Cookie Company on it, while Jensen’s basically declares Hi, I’m Chock Full of Filthy Sex Toys, How Are You?

“They sell books,” Jensen blurts out. He lifts the bag, then thinks better of it and tries to hide it instead. Jared glances up at the Camouflage storefront and all the acid green teddies on display. The rest of the group is lagging behind, laughing as they walk.

Jared shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I come here with Sandy a lot.”

Is Sandy that tiny cheerleader? Jensen’s stomach flips a little. She probably wears a really small and adorable lingerie size.

Jared holds out his bag. “Want a cookie? I got Lemon Drops, Mint Conditions, Cahootz and Snickerdoodles.”

“Uh, I’ll take a Lemon Drop. Please.”

Jared roots around, retrieves a cookie, and passes it to Jensen. Jensen’s so frazzled by the ongoing presence of his discreet black bag that he doesn’t realize until afterward that Jared’s fingers touched his.

**

Jensen stays in his room for the next two weeks. Well, not really, because he showers and eats and goes to class like a good son who doesn’t want to piss off his parents. But when he’s not in those places doing necessary things, he keeps the door shut and tries not to think about opening it and discovering that Jared happens to be in the apartment again.

The black bag sits under his bed, and every time Jensen thinks about it, he gets hot all over. Not in a good way.

Never mind what Jared must think about his kinky purchasing habits; Jared basically admitted to frequenting a dirty toys and sexy clothing shop with a girl who could possibly be his girlfriend. Which means they’re close. Which means they’re intimate, because Jensen knows he’d never dream of buying unmentionables with someone unless he was comfortable enough to be laughed at by said individual.

Jensen knows that if he hangs around near Jared, he’ll spend the whole time flushed, tongue tied, and disappointed. Better just to hide. Because Jensen is a mature, rational adult. Sure thing.

It so happens that he has a music final coming up— the damn quarters go by like _that_ — and part of it is an in-class performance of an original composition. He’s not sure which instrument he’s going to use for the test, so he spends a day transposing the piano music for the guitar, and then again into a different key for the vibraphone just because he can.

Really, sheet music is cake mix to him. He sometimes has trouble duplicating music by ear alone, but he was taught to read music and he’s got this down.

As soon as he plays it once on the guitar, though, he knows that’s his instrument for the test. He tried for a Spanish flavor while composing, and that fits best with strings under his fingers instead of keys or mallets.

He’s got his performance down well enough to start playing around with it about two days before his test. It’s oddly hot for Santa Cruz, but then, Santa Cruz is just odd in general, so the heat isn’t really weird. It’s actually… normal. Because in Santa Cruz, normal is weird.

Whatever. Santa Cruz has pretty much redefined the word “weird” for Jensen in a million different ways since he got here.

He’s got his window open and his door propped wide for a little cross breeze, and he’s thinking about heading down to the quad to play outside under the wisteria once he’s through with this round. It’ll be nice to hear the notes outside the confines of his walls, and it won’t be too hot in the shade. Maybe he’ll walk down the hill and climb up on the Squiggle, if he can keep from dropping his guitar while he does it, and then afterward, he can get a Thai chicken wrap at the Hungry Slug.

Jensen’s lost in a cascade of notes, fingers racing over frets, building and building to the finale. He’s got that high he gets when he hits every single note right at the perfect tempo. The tune swells and rolls, and Jensen rocks with it, eyes shut, not feeling like he’s making the music at all but just flowing through it. It already exists, and he’s there, and it’s perfect.

The final note echoes out until it’s faded completely away, and Jensen breathes deep. Lets it out.

A tapping sound comes from behind. Jensen turns and nearly drops his guitar.

Jared’s standing in his hallway with one hand on the doorframe. “Hey.”

Jensen swallows, holding onto the neck of his guitar for dear life. “Hi. Uh. What…?”

Jared’s cheeks redden. “Sorry, your front door was open. Open open, I mean, not just— Uh, is… Aldis here?”

It takes him a few seconds to process; Jared obviously makes Jensen’s brain slow down to a slug’s pace. “I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t heard him in a while. But then, I’m sort of buried in my music, and I’m not exactly cognizant of the world at large when— um.”

God, he is so hopeless.

Jared shifts his weight and nods. “That sounded really good.”

“I… Thanks.”

Jared’s in board shorts and a tank top. It’s a tight tank top, and it defines his muscles in a very particular way. Jensen casts around for something sophisticated to say. “Uh, you can wait here for him if you—”

“No, that’s—” Jared straightens up and shoves his hands in his pockets. His cheeks are still pink. “I mean, I should actually be somewhere, so…”

He gestures down the hall toward the front door. Jensen nods.

“I can tell him you were here.”

Jared clears his throat and flashes a smile. “Yeah, thanks. See ya.”

Jensen stands there in the middle of his room, trying not to cringe at the fact that Jared doesn’t want to wait in the apartment. Probably he’d rather not listen when Jensen inevitably starts babbling again. And Jensen doesn’t even want to think about how long Jared stood there watching him play.

**

Despite Jensen’s befuddled state, his final goes incredibly well. One of the other guitar players, a guy named Steve, starts jamming with him after the rest of the class clears out. They sound really good together. Jensen mentions that Steve ought to meet his friend Chris, and it turns out they already know each other through Chris’ band, Kane. It’s the way Steve’s face sort of flushes at the mention of Chris that makes Jensen ‘remember’ about a meeting he’s got.

“Wait, so _you’re_ Jenny?” Steve calls in a slightly high voice as Jensen pulls the door open. “I mean— shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay. Chris likes to pretend it still bugs me. I just let him.” Dude, is there an off button somewhere that he could press? That would be really helpful.

Steve looks at him for a moment. “He talks about you all the time.”

Jensen nods awkwardly. They’ve been best friends since high school. But Chris has never really mentioned Steve to Jensen and now he’s not sure what it all means.

It’s almost a relief to get back to Dallas where he can just shut off his school side for an entire four weeks.

It’s a pretty nice Christmas, same as it usually is, with lots of cocoa and candy canes, and Mackenzie squealing and jumping on Jensen when he gets off the plane, when he opens her present, when he comes downstairs to breakfast in the morning, when he _turns around_ , for god’s sake. It’s a good thing she’s so cute.

Jensen’s mom spends her time looking at him in that wistful, proud way moms with kids in college look, and hugging him tightly whenever she can. Jensen’s dad treats him and Josh to two all-nighters of classic action films in their den, complete with popcorn and chips and soda and enough candy to make them throw up. And Josh gets him a really nice hard leather guitar case for when he travels.

But the cherry on top comes when he and Gloria exchange winks over the bright pink book he smuggles into her bag during their goodbye hug just before New Years.

**

He comes back to San Jose on the same flight as Danneel, and they push and shove their way onto the bus heading over Highway 17 into Santa Cruz. It’s pretty late when they make it to their respective homes, and Jensen finds a present from Aldis outside his door. He grins and hangs the brand new sports bag he bought for his housemate over Aldis’ door knob.

After a good minute of consideration, he decides not to put Misha’s gift out until he’s back in town. Jensen doesn’t really think the bags and bags of Sour Patch Kids would last all that long out in the hallway of their apartment.

**

There aren’t too many kids out on the quad the day before class starts. Jensen takes his guitar with him in the morning and picks his way through some Nine Inch Nails, some John Lee Hooker, and a few classical pieces by Rachmaninoff and Satie. The afternoon is nice, not too chilly, no cloud cover. Every breath Jensen takes is fresh with the sea.

He’s just finishing the Gymnopédies when he senses he’s got an audience. Jared’s standing on the same set of steps several yards away, nearly out of his line of sight. Jensen jumps and loses the rhythm.

“Sorry,” Jared says, lifting a hand. “Didn’t mean to mess you up.”

Jensen shakes his head. “No, it’s… I’m just screwing around.”

Jared walks over and takes a seat on the steps next to him. Not all that close, but if anyone walked by, there’d be no question that they’re sitting together. Jared’s in track shorts and a blue t-shirt. He looks like he’s been running.

“That’s pretty damn good for just screwing around.” Jared smiles, eyes flicking up to Jensen’s face.

Jensen swallows and strums a quick chord progression to keep his jittery fingers occupied. “Thanks.”

“Music major?”

“Yeah.”

Jared leans back on both arms, turning his face to the sun. “Man, that’s awesome. I can’t play an instrument to save my life.”

“Yeah, well.” Jensen keeps himself from staring. “I can’t score a goal to save my life, so…”

Jared laughs. They sit in the sunlight for a few minutes, and Jensen pokes through a melody he’s been tinkering with.

“You know any Traffic?”

Jensen looks up. “Uh… John Barleycorn, yeah.”

The grin Jared gives him is stunning. “My dad loves that one.”

Jensen sets his fingers. “Do you?”

Jared’s grin shrinks to a smirk. “It’s Traffic, man. Goes without saying.”

Jensen starts in on the delicate opening notes. Jared doesn’t say a thing the entire way through the song. Partway through, Jensen forgets he’s not alone and sings a few words, but Jared moves in the corner of his eye and Jensen shuts his mouth.

At the end of the song, he finds Jared studying him from behind his sunglasses.

“Dude. You sing, too?”

Jensen can feel his face going hot again. “Yeah.”

“You sound good.”

Jensen shrugs and shakes his head. Launches into Norwegian Wood. It’s almost an hour before Jared gets up and says goodbye.

**

A few weeks into the quarter, Aldis suggests they host a party. Jensen’s totally cool with it. Really, he is. He’s never been averse to parties, just to stupid people. Granted, parties often set the stage for stupid people, but for some reason, he’s even less bothered by the idea of having people over lately. He doesn’t know why _that_ would be. Oh, no.

On the chosen night, the apartment’s got a pretty good group going when the door opens, Brock Kelly walks in, and Jensen’s mood hits the floor with a thud.

God, he hates Brock. The guy is such an ass. After that first time when two dozen eggs ended up splattered all over their kitchen, Aldis swore he’d never invite him to another party again.

Brock came to two successive parties after that.

The thing is, Jensen doesn’t think Aldis _did_ invite him again. Somehow, Brock always figures out when they’re throwing some shindig— Jensen suspects it’s because Chad can’t keep his big fat annoying mouth shut— and shows up. And starts drinking immediately. Once he’s drunk, he kicks up such a fuss when anyone tries to boot him out that Aldis and Jensen decided it’s safer just to ignore him. Try to have fun anyway, and keep the bastard out of the fucking kitchen.

But Jensen isn’t in the mood tonight. He’s missing the first edition reprint of Lord Byron’s Poetry that his grandmother loaned to him for his studies, and even the mad cleanup in preparation for tonight hadn’t revealed its whereabouts. He knows he didn’t take it out of the apartment— he would _never_ — so it’s completely illogical that it’s gone. Not to mention that Chris has to work tonight and Danneel isn’t feeling well, so they aren’t coming. Steve, who Jensen has another class with this quarter, was also invited but is visiting his folks in Palo Alto. Jensen’s still reeling from the nerves of today’s in-class essay test. He just wanted to fucking _relax_ tonight, kick back and maybe try to talk to Jared a little. Except even that’s screwed up because it’s an hour in and Jared still hasn’t shown his face. Jensen decides, fuck it all, they don’t pay him enough for this. He’s just going to lock himself in his room, watch a damn movie, and overturn everything he owns until he finds his grandma’s Byron.

He’s halfway there, gritting his teeth while Brock shouts tasteless jokes, when the door opens again and Jared walks in, carrying two cases of Fosters. Aldis sends up a jovial “Yo! My man!” And now Jensen doesn’t know what to do.

He ends up on the couch in the thick of things, with a beer in his hand and one eye on Jared as the guy makes his way through the front room, greeting everyone he meets.

Eventually, the crowd grows enough that Brock no longer monopolizes everyone’s attention. Aldis has Guitar Hero out and is getting thoroughly trounced by a PoliSci major named Alona. Someone’s singing Dylan in the kitchen, and even Misha has emerged from his room to tell stories that require a lot of gesturing and the use of multiple accents. He’s doing better in the socializing department than Jensen, who is still nursing his first beer on the couch. He hates beer. The taste clings to his throat like saran wrap, but he gets more flak when he doesn’t drink at all than when he nurses a single can all night. He can hear Jared’s laugh just behind him, close enough that Jensen’s feeling both alert and content as hell. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself at all. If only Jared would wander over and sit down next to him, just talk to him for a couple minutes. He’d listen to Jared’s Ultimate stories. He’s interested. When Jared’s telling them, he’s interested.

Jared launches into another one to much giggling from his group of listeners. Jensen gets up and heads for the kitchen, making his way close enough to ‘accidentally’ bump into Jared. Jared doesn’t seem to notice. Jensen stumbles over an empty bottle in the kitchen doorway and almost cakes it right into the counter. He manages not to make a fool of himself, but laughter bursts out behind him and suddenly he’s not so sure. He’s too self-conscious to turn around and find out.

He’s got his hands on a cold bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade when he becomes aware of someone reading aloud. Jensen frowns, trying to get the bottle open with his shirt, until he recognizes the words all at once and drops the bottle into the sink. He races from the kitchen toward the sound, recognizing the voice as well, desperate not to see what he’s terrified he’ll—

Brock’s standing on the coffee table, book in hand, slurring derisively through every stanza. As he reads, his other hand swings wildly, slopping alcohol out of his glass all over the head of Katie Cassidy, who takes theater and looks this close to jumping up there and socking him in the face. Aldis has a hold on Katie’s arm. Everyone’s looking in the same direction. Jensen feels sick. That’s _his grandma’s_ Byron, and that fuckwit is going to set it on fire or dump it in the toilet or something. The only reason it’s not soaked with liquor already is because he’s holding it close to his face, squinting to read the small print.

“‘It gave them virtues not their own, no ear so dull, no soul’ —Fucking hell, who the fuck reads this shit?” Brock crows, waving his drink around even more wildly.

“That’s Lord Byron, dumbfuck,” Misha states from his place near the table. His nose scrunches up like Brock is some gigantic cockroach. “Have some respect.”

Brock rounds on him, transferring the book to his other hand, and Jensen’s heart jags sideways at its proximity to the glass. “Fuck you, you little shit!”

Aldis lets go of Katie and reaches up, wrapping a hand around Brock’s arm. “Hey, man, get the hell down. You mess up the table, you’re paying for it.”

Everyone’s eyeing Brock with wary or irritated looks, but none of them are moving out of Jensen’s way, and if he doesn’t get that book away from Brock in the next nanosecond, he’s going to throw up. Seriously. He finally shoves between bodies to the foot of the table. “That’s my book, Kelly, give it up.”

Brock sneers at him and lifts the book, and his glass, higher. “Figures it’s the geek’s crap poetry. You—”

“Kelly, get the fuck down.” That’s Jared, suddenly on Jensen’s right, glaring up at Brock. He’s almost tall enough to make a jump, snatch the book. Brock sways and more alcohol sloshes out of the glass. Katie mutters something extremely profane and punches Brock in the thigh.

“You piece of shit, Kelly, now I smell like a fucking bar!”

Brock turns, possibly to dump the rest of his glass over her head, and in that moment, Jared leaps up and grabs for the book. He miscalculates, connects with Brock’s hand instead, and Brock lets go of what he’s holding with a shout. Everyone jumps back as the glass smashes down on the table and shatters. Jensen feels the flat side of a piece glance off his arm and he’s thankful it’s not sharp, but he’s only got eyes for his grandmother’s book. It has landed dangerously close to the puddle of beer spilling from a can Brock kicked over, and Jensen snatches it up, relief flooding him so fast he feels lightheaded.

Aldis wastes no time wrestling Brock down off the table, then hands him over to Tom and Mike. Jensen cradles his grandma’s Byron to his chest, too grateful to feel self-conscious about anything.

Jared’s frown fades to concern as he turns around. “Everybody okay? Anyone get cut?”

Everyone checks themselves, arms and legs, pawing at faces— including Jared. Jensen rubs at his cheeks and neck with his free hand and finds himself whole. He looks to Aldis, ready to throw down an absolute No Brock ultimatum, and finds Aldis staring at his chest.

“Jen…” Aldis trails off. His eyes are getting wider by the second.

Jensen frowns, feels someone grab his shoulder, and spins round to face Jared. Who is also staring at him like he’s grown another set of arms.

“What?” he says, reeling from the movement.

“Jensen?” Jared points down with his free hand. Jensen follows it with his eyes.

Fuck, there’s blood on his grandmother’s book. There’s— Jensen stares at the inside of his left arm, bright red and streaming from palm to elbow. “Uh,” he manages. Oh god, there’s a cut, a _long_ one, he can see it sliced over his wrist and down his forearm and, _oh god_ , there where the skin pulls right open, he can fucking see—

**

Jensen wakes up in a very white room. He blinks, feeling like he’s walked into a fog bank. The woman standing beside the bed leans over him and smiles.

“Hey there. You finally awake, honey?”

Jensen sits up gingerly. The woman’s in penguin scrubs and has latex gloves on. She takes his pulse and pats his shoulder, still smiling. “You saw some stuff you weren’t ready to see, I think.”

Jensen blinks again, takes in the rest of the room, and promptly remembers. He must turn some alarming shade because the nurse— she’s definitely a nurse and this is definitely a clinic of some sort— darts forward and steadies him with both hands. “Okay, honey,” she murmurs. “Deep breaths. In and out.”

“What—?” Jensen manages once he finds his voice.

The nurse taps his left hand gently. Jensen looks down and finds a large swath of white bandage around his hand and forearm. He stares at it as the nurse keeps talking. “You’re in the ER at Dominican Hospital. You have minor cuts on your palm and a nasty slice from the heel of your hand to midway up your forearm. Thirty stitches. It’s pretty impressive.”

Jensen nods, remembering what it was that… well, that must have made him pass out just from looking at it. He immediately wishes he could forget again. He reaches instinctively for his cell phone and finds that he’s wearing a hospital gown over his shirt and jeans. His pockets are empty.

“Please tell me you didn’t call my folks,” he breathes, and the nurse chuckles.

“Don’t worry.” She pats his arm. “You’re legally an adult. You can call them on your own. Meanwhile, your things are with your friends in the waiting room.”

“My…” Jensen turns toward the door as if he’ll magically be able to see them.

“I think you scared the daylights out of one or two of them.” She shook her head. Her smile turns fond. “The way they rushed in here…”

Jensen zones out a little trying to picture it. He’s got nothing but a complete blank from the moment he saw his injury until now. It occurs to him that the nurse is still talking.

“—patched you up and given you a shot of antibiotics. The doctor is sending you home with a prescription for the pain, but if your injuries show any signs of infection, we want you back in here immediately. Okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

**

He’s a little wobbly getting out to the waiting room, and the feeling doubles when Chris storms up to him, arms waving.

“Fucking _fuck_ , Jenny!” Chris grabs him, relief and exasperation all over his face. “What the fuck?”

Jensen gapes at his best friend, and then looks past him to find Danneel wringing her hands. There are honest-to-god tear tracks down her face and she looks like he’s just punched her in the gut. She grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him out of Chris’ grip.

“Oh my god, I thought you were dead!” she sobs into his shirt. Which is probably still covered in blood. Jensen winces.

Behind her are Aldis, looking a good deal calmer, Misha, staring at him inscrutably, and Jared, who resembles a deer frozen in the headlights. Jared’s mouth keeps opening and closing without emitting sound. Jensen notices belatedly that his shirt is also streaked with blood.

Aldis is holding his cell phone in one hand. Jensen glares.

“You called Chris? And _Danneel?_ ”

Aldis shrugs. “They were numbers one and two on your speed dial.”

Danneel gives a fresh wail and clings to him like a monkey. Chris is still glowering at him, as if it’s entirely his fault.

“Man, it’s fucking wrong to get a fucking call in the fucking Burger King drive-thru telling me my best friend is fucking bleeding to death.”

Jensen groans. “Please stop cussing, Chris.”

Finally Danneel lets him peel her away from his now-soggy front. He raises his bandaged arm and all eyes follow it like it’s a fishing lure. “So… what happened?”

“Dude,” Misha pipes up. “You fainted. Right there on the floor.”

Jared jerks like he can’t help himself. “He didn’t _faint_. He saw the inside of his own arm and fucking passed out! You would have done the same.”

Misha shrugs and nods.

“I passed out.” Jensen tries it on for size. It’s still horribly embarrassing. “How… How did I get here?”

Aldis snorts, peering askance at Jared. “This guy,” he says, clapping a hand on Jared’s shoulder, “picked you up and took off running to my car. Damn, I knew there was a reason we kept him around.”

Jensen stares at Jared, along with Danneel, whose eyes are wider than he’s ever seen, and Chris, who is studying Jared with a new pucker to his mouth like he’s inspecting him for cracks. Jared, for his part, turns red and looks away. He actually scuffs his shoe on the floor, like a guilty child. “Just got you where you needed to be.”

Jared picked him up and basically carried him to safety. God, Jensen wishes he could have been conscious for that.

Of course, he probably would have fainted anyway as a direct result.

**

It takes Jensen all of two days to realize that it is physically impossible for him to play his guitar and piano. He can manage the vibraphone for a short time, but then it just hurts like hell and Jensen knows he’s going to pull his stitches if he keeps forcing it.

It’s devastating. Jensen isn’t expecting the depth of it when it hits.

He calls his folks and gives them a watered-down version of events so his mother won’t try to buy a ticket on the next red-eye to San Jose. She does anyway, and he ends up begging his dad to talk her down. It’s when he calls Josh that the reality of it becomes clear and he breaks down on the phone with his big brother.

“Jen, it’s okay,” Josh soothes. “They’ll let you retake the classes, don’t worry.”

“I had it all figured out,” Jensen manages between hitches. “Was gonna… gonna graduate in June. Stay in town, try to play in San Francisco.”

“You can still do that. Just a little later than you thought. You know Chris will wait for you.”

He’s not technically part of Chris’ band, but he knows all the songs because their base guitarist quit last spring and he filled in for a while. Now that he thinks about it, the new replacement must be Steve. It wouldn’t matter anyway; Chris wants to give him solo spots in between the band’s sets the next time they go to the Bay Area.

Jensen wipes his eyes. “I know. I know he will.”

Josh continues. “You didn’t cut any tendons, you didn’t screw up your fingers. Just gotta wait for the stitches to come out and the soreness to go away.”

Jensen knows it. It doesn’t make his immediate future any more bearable.

“Oh, by the way,” Josh continues. “Thanks for the book. Asshole.”

Jensen manages a smile. “I try.”

**

So now Jensen has tons of time to spend in the library. McHenry is way prettier than the Science Library, so Jensen goes there for walks in the woods and quiet contemplation over how not to dwell on his screwed up school year.

Turns out that Jared’s little cheerleader works on the second floor. She spots him and starts talking a mile a minute.

“Oh, hey, you’re Jared’s friend, right? He told me about your arm and the party, and I know Brock, too, god, that guy’s an ass. Did he ruin your book? I love Byron. How’s your arm? Jared said you’re a music major and you can’t play now because of that dickwad. Are you going to have to drop your classes? I hope not. I saw you play at a show with Kane last year and you’re really good! So you’re friends with the band? Their new bassist rocks. I hear they’re going to tour the coast from San Francisco to San Diego this summer. I hope you’re well enough to go with them. How’s it going?”

Wow. Jensen can’t even remember what was a question and what wasn’t. He does remember her talking about Jared, Jared telling her all about how he can’t play. Did he tell Jared that? He doesn’t think so. Maybe Aldis did.

Jensen tries to answer. “Are you two dating?” Oh my _god_.

Sandy— if that’s her name— blinks at him. “Uh, me and Jared? I don’t think so. He’s kind of out, you know?”

And then she’s _looking_ at him. And grinning. And opening her mouth.

“I have to get going,” he wheezes before she can start. “I’ll, uh, see you around, Sandy. Your name’s Sandy, right?”

“Yep, Sandy McCoy. Hey, so are you and Jared—”

“Shit.” Jensen whips out his phone, which has not rung or buzzed or anything, and flips it open. “Sorry, I have to— I’ll see you. Bye.”

He rushes away talking to an imaginary person about imaginary raccoons in their imaginary dorm.

**

Chris calls him up on Saturday. “Hey, man. How’s your arm?”

“Hurts.” It really does. And when it doesn’t hurt, it itches.

“Steve quit the band.”

“What?”

“We had this huge fight. I swear, out of nowhere. Why did you tell Steve we’re dating?”

“I… didn’t?”

“Oh.” Chris is quiet for a moment. “Um, Jensen—”

“Yeah?”

Another pause. “Never mind. Well, okay, so I could be bi, right?”

“Uh.” Jensen thinks that when reality gets to Santa Cruz, California, it promptly goes out to sniff glue, he really does. One time a kid asked him for spare change in the middle of Pacific Avenue, citing his overwhelming urge to buy LSD. It’s kind of refreshing not to hear stories about needing gas for a car that doesn’t exist, but really? _Really?_ “Yeah, I guess you could be.”

“And you didn’t tell him we’re together?”

“I didn’t tell him we’re together.”

“Huh. Okay, well, take it easy, man.”

“Yeah.”

Chris hangs up. Jensen wonders yet again if he should be putting money aside for therapy somewhere down the line.

**

Jensen and Danneel go to The Crepe Place for dinner. Danneel’s all dressed up, trying to catch the eye of one of the waiters. Jensen has already told her that going out with a guy in order to flirt with another guy isn’t the best way to bag your man, but whatever. Danneel lives a charmed life.

“Oh, there he is!” She smacks Jensen repeatedly on the arm until he threatens to stab her with his fork. “Okay, his name’s— quit it! God, Jensen. His name’s Matt. Oh my god, I love blonds.”

Matt comes over with their respective dinner crepes and Jensen does his best to look unattached while Danneel bats her eyes and laughs coquettishly when Matt asks if they want more drinks. The result is that Matt gives Jensen some pretty troubled looks for the rest of the night.

Finally, Jensen feigns heading for the men’s room and corners Matt in the hallway with his arms full of dirty dishes. Hey, he’s not brave on his own behalf, but for his friends? Jensen’s fucking Rambo.

“Hey, man, I’m not with her. If you’re wondering.”

Matt stares at him. He’s got those kind of blue eyes that make it hard to look at him for very long. “You’re not?”

Jensen shrugs. “Nah. Call me her wingman. Whatever. She really likes you. She’s single.”

Matt’s face breaks into a smile. “Really? You’re not just screwing with me, are you?”

“No.” Jensen shakes his head. “Girls aren’t really my type.”

“Ah.”

Jensen looks up and blushes. “I mean, I’m not hitting on you, too. She is. But I’m not. Not that you aren’t… hot… or anything. Okay, I’m stopping now.”

Matt grins. He shifts all the plates to one hand, somehow, and claps Jensen on the back. “Hey, no sweat, man. Thanks for the heads up. She’s really cute.”

Jensen nods, then fixes Matt with a frown. “So, yeah, if she cries because of you—”

Matt nods emphatically. “Hey, I’ll beat _myself_ up if that happens. No worries.”

By the time Jensen pays the bill that night, Danneel has a surfing date with her boy. Jensen can’t resist the grin as she squeals and hugs him on their way out. He pulls her close and plants a kiss on her forehead.

And looks up to see Jared in the doorway, staring at them. He’s holding the door for Sandy, who comes in under his arm, chattering away, and Jensen goes cold down to his toes at the look on Jared’s face.

Danneel is aware enough to give them a chipper hello, arms still tight around Jensen’s waist. She kisses Jensen’s cheek, and then they’re past each other, Jared turning to watch them go. Jensen looks back, desperation clenching in his stomach, until Danneel pulls him around the corner to his car.

~tbc~


	2. Chapter 2

Jared doesn’t come around for a week. Chad and Mike do. Tom does. But not Jared.

So maybe Jensen’s a little deeper into this crush than he realized, judging by how many people comment on his mood. Chris decides it has to do with his hand. Aldis asks him if he’s feeling alright. Even Steve notices when they pass each other on Cardiac Hill, but then it’s really awkward because of whatever the hell happened with Chris, and Jensen doesn’t actually know any more than Steve does. Besides, he’s out of breath, so. Danneel would have commented, except she doesn’t notice because she’s completely gaga over her surf god.

Jensen’s just _bummed_. There’s no way to explain the big lipstick print on his cheek that night, or the way Danneel was actually really psyched about her date with another guy and not so much about getting to kiss Jensen. Well, there might be a way, but Jensen’s insides start churning whenever he thinks about approaching Jared on his own, and then he can answer Aldis truthfully and say he feels like he’s about the throw up.

But Aldis is way more approachable than Jared, so Jensen times it and casually enters the kitchen for a banana while Aldis is grabbing bottled water from the fridge for the rest of the team, who are currently making lots of noise in the living room. “Hey.”

“Hey, man.” Aldis tips one of the bottles toward Jensen. “You better now?”

“Sure. Practice over?”

“Yep.” Aldis roots around in one of the cupboards for the monster bag of potato chips they got at Costco. “Can I use these? I’ll pick you up some more this weekend.”

Jensen waves the chips away. “Nah, take ‘em. I think we got them for that party.”

“Fucking Kelly.”

See, that’s why Jensen likes Aldis. “So, how’s the team playing?”

Aldis pauses and squints at him. “We’re good, man. Morgan was actually smiling today.”

Jensen nods, pretty sure that Morgan is the team captain. But Aldis is still looking at him. Jensen shrugs. “Good. That’s good.”

“It’s a relief, that’s what it is.” Aldis flashes him a grin and starts back toward the living room.

“Who’s here?” Jensen blurts, and Aldis turns around.

“Um, let’s see… Murray, Rosenbaum, Welling, Lindberg, Abel… Tiger’s here somewhere, I’m pretty sure. Don’t worry, I’ll keep ‘em all down for you.”

“What about Jared?”

Aldis frowns. “Nah, he left right after practice. Said he’s busy tonight.”

Jensen nods, but Aldis doesn’t move to leave. He just stands there watching him. Jensen gets his banana and gets out of the kitchen before Aldis’ stare can poke holes in his head.

**

And then Aldis gets a girlfriend who is crazier than anyone Jensen has ever met. Her name is Beth, which really isn’t fair because it’s too normal a name to properly prepare anyone for the terrifying reality.

To tell the truth, she’s growing on Jensen, especially when she comes over one day, plunks herself down on the floor of his room, and informs him that the sweatshirt she’s wearing prevents radioactive microwaves from turning her stomach into an alien breeding ground. “My friend Gina and her inter-dimensional soul mate Tim sell them at the skate park, but I could get you one for free.”

“Inter-dimensional soul mate?”

Beth waves a hand. “Yeah. They’ve been reincarnated dozens of times. Once we were all professional crooks. I’m so tired of going to their weddings.”

At least she keeps him distracted from his own woes. And she really is cute with Aldis, plus she’ll keep Aldis safe from random microwaves. Or whatever. Jensen keeps expecting to smell pot on her clothing, but he never does.

The point is that his weird fondness for Beth keeps Jensen from thinking about it too much when Aldis comes up with the idea to get everyone together down at the Boardwalk before finals hit again. Jensen doesn’t really like the Boardwalk. It’s dirty, there are screaming kids everywhere, it’s dirty, the freshmen move around in these massive hordes and clog up the arcade and the bumper cars, it’s dirty, the beach kind of sucks, and did Jensen mention it was dirty?

Well, if he did, that’s an understatement: Jensen thinks the popcorn and cotton candy coalesce right out of the air after having systematically wiped themselves all over every single visitor’s face. He doesn’t want to get hepatitis and he doesn’t think that’s unreasonable.

But Beth is really a lot of fun, and Aldis is always cool, and damn it, Jensen wants a chance to ogle Jared again. He’s going into withdrawal and it’s making him feel all hollow and forlorn and pathetic.

He does his part and invites Chris and Steve and Danneel (and Matt, in the hopes that Jared will see and understand that Jensen is very much not Danneel’s boyfriend) and A.J. and Travis (because they’re always bringing Rob and Em, and Jensen thinks the group needs a higher influx of classy geeks, thank you), and then goes out on a limb and asks Julie and Lauren from his Advanced Music Theory seminar because they’re actually really easy to talk to, for people Jensen doesn’t know very well. Julie plays a mean harp and Lauren’s kind of a klepto when it comes to Jensen’s guitar picks, but she always gives them back. Well, sometimes he just takes them back when they find their way into her cello case.

But when the night in question comes, Jensen’s nervous as fuck. He’s got washed out jeans on and a VAST t-shirt— simple, black with the logo— and the boots he always wears when he goes out. They don’t bother with cars; buses are much simpler down to the Boardwalk and back, and parking’s always a bitch anyway. The place is already packed when they get there, the sun dipping down over Monterey, and Jensen shoves his hands in his pockets, hanging back while Aldis slaps palms with people Jensen doesn’t know very well.

Julie and Lauren do show up, and Jensen gets to chatting awkwardly with them until Chris and Steve wander in, somehow holding themselves close to each other and far apart at the same time. Jensen wonders if any progress has been made there. He takes his cues from Steve— last time they talked, everything was bizarre. But Steve gives him a genuine, if lopsided, smile and asks about his arm.

The group grows little by little. Julie and Lauren make good conversationalists in general, it turns out, not just about music. Jensen gets distracted when Chris loosens up and bumps shoulders with Steve, and then they don’t move apart, though Chris’ face is pretty damn red. Jensen misses the moment Jared shows up, and then gets startled out of his comfort zone by the sound of his laugh. He whirls around a little too fast and sees that Jared has also brought friends.

There’s Sandy, talking nonstop to a girl Jensen vaguely recognizes and another girl he doesn’t. Chad is part of the group, and there are two guys close behind Jared who Jensen has never seen before. Wait, scratch that, one of them looks familiar.

“Jared!” Aldis claps his back and feints at his head, then starts naming people off one by one. How in the world Aldis remembers all the names is a mystery to Jensen. Jared takes over as soon as Aldis is done with his crowd, and points out “Sandy and Chad, duh, and this is Genevieve, Sophia, my friend Milo from home, and his friend Zack.”

The girls smile and wave, but all Jensen can think is that maybe Jared has had visitors this week. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding Jensen after all.

Aldis then makes the rounds of their mutual friends so Jared’s buddies will know everyone’s names, and tugs Jensen to the front right at the end. “Jen, I don’t know if you’ve met Milo, but he used to go here.”

Milo, the guy Jensen recognizes, squints at him. “No, we’re good. He was in my music theory section last year.”

“Awesome.” Aldis claps his hands, gleeful at introductions already made. But the look Milo is giving Jensen isn’t all that reassuring. Jensen remembers him vaguely: fairly standoffish, frowned a lot. He tries smiling at the guy. Milo returns it with a complacent enough nod. Jensen shoves his hands back into his pockets, feeling the whip of the ocean wind, and glances around to see where Jared’s got to.

He’s already several people away, in the middle of some raucous story of Beth’s. She throws her head back, her laugh as loud as Jared’s, and Jensen abruptly realizes that he saw her once way before Aldis started dating her. She’s on the girls’ Ultimate team, and she was shouting weird non-sequiturs while waiting for their chance on the field the first day of the tournament.

Jensen can feel himself start to blush at Jared’s obvious merriment and turns away— he can’t help the reaction. His gaze lands on Milo again, just as the guy mutters something in his friend’s ear. The other guy snickers.

It’s been a long time since Jensen felt like the object of ridicule. Since high school, where his poor choice in glasses frames drew everyone’s eye, or so it seemed. Truthfully, Jensen isn’t sure it’s happening now; Milo and Zack aren’t even looking at him. But the sensation is there, crawling up his spine, and it’s one he hates, never quite got over. His cheeks heat even more.

Before he can give it much thought, Misha bounds up next to him wearing a belled jester’s hat in stomach-turning colors. “Greetings from Antares!”

Aldis gives Misha’s hat a slap that sends the bells jingling and announces that everyone they’re meeting outside is here, they can go in. Jensen falls into step with the general shuffle, wondering how obvious he’ll have to be to get near Jared. He discovers he’s already fairly close to Jared in the crowd— they’re practically walking side by side, actually— and thinks that someone’s in his corner tonight.

**

Even though they’re in close proximity for the walk into the park, Milo basically ignores Jensen in order to talk to Jared. It’s an approach Jensen is comfortable with, considering they don’t know each other. It’s obvious, though, from the way Jared and Milo toss insults back and forth that they’re close friends. He catches enough of the conversation to figure out that Milo started out at UCSC, but then left the school when he found it wasn’t quite what he was looking for and ended up at San Francisco State. But Jensen realizes their friendship goes way beyond high school when their inside jokes start completely revolving around San Antonio.

He had no idea Milo was from Texas. Huh. They didn’t exactly chat in that seminar. Jensen didn’t talk much to anyone, what with all the lecture notes and quizzes and their batshit insane professor.

They’re moving through the line getting ride bracelets when Jensen’s phone buzzes. _Look to your right! :D:D:D_

He does, and finds Danneel, waving her cotton candy at him from beyond the other ticket counter. Matt’s just behind her, arms wrapped tight around her waist, a radiant smile on his face. The rest of Jensen’s tension vanishes in a puff: his close friends are all here. He doesn’t feel as isolated as he did five minutes ago.

He gets nudged from behind and turns his attention to the window to pay his fare, then practically steps on Sandy who is standing stock-still to his right. She’s staring at Danneel and Matt with a strange expression pinching her pretty features, and Jensen gets nervous all over again when he realizes he’s still got one biggish mess to clear up. Should he start with Sandy? Maybe he can explain it to her and she can tell Jared, and then Jared will know he’s not with Danneel and maybe come talk to him again. Because they’re still in grade school, obviously. But Sandy’s gone by the time he gets his thoughts together, bouncing her way back over to the girls who came with her, and Jensen’s lost Jared again in the crowd.

Danneel and Matt make a very affectionate addition to their group, constantly pecking each other on the lips and hugging. Obviously the surfing date went well, and Jensen would be happy for her if he wasn’t so concerned about misconceptions that Danneel isn’t even aware of. He doesn’t know Sandy that well, and wonders if she’s the type of person to make a big fuss in public with a girl she hardly knows. Then he remembers he’s not really even Sandy’s friend, so why would she bother? Somehow, that doesn’t detract from his anxiety.

They push through the (dirty, horde-like, popcorn-demolishing) crowd and get in line for the Giant Dipper. Jensen searches out Jared and feels his stomach flip when he sees him a few people ahead, eyeing Danneel with a furrow in his brow. Danneel is currently making out with Matt like he’s got gold somewhere down around his tonsils and damn, she’s going to get it, come hell or high water. Yay. If only Jensen were closer to Jared, he could… Well, assuming Jared even cares about any of it.

Jensen’s feeling more than discombobulated tonight.

He flows along with the line, looking surreptitiously around at who of the group might end up as his riding buddy. Tiger’s nice enough, and he’s only a few feet away laughing with Beth. Jensen would ask Beth herself, but he suspects Aldis wants to keep their seat couples only. Chris and Steve are out of his line of sight, and Danneel got sick to her stomach on this coaster before. Maybe Sandy or one of her friends; they’re pretty close by.

Before he’s ready, Jensen’s at the front of the line, being directed into a car. He stumbles in and sits down, trying not to feel stupid for ending up alone, when Jared is suddenly in the car next to him, pulling the bar down.

“Hey.” He sounds a little breathless.

“Hi.”

“Ready to scream our asses off?” Jared pounds a fist into his palm and Jensen can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, right.” They’re the last to load. The car lurches forward and Aldis begins an epitaph.

“Alas, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, god rest their souls. They gave their lives valiantly, going first so that we might survive and laugh at them.”

Jensen flips Aldis off without turning around, and then they’re climbing. And it hits Jensen: He’s in a fucking roller coaster car with Jared pressed all up his right side.

Jared claps his hands down on the divider between their seat and the one in front. “I love this coaster!”

Jensen feels somewhat ambivalent about this coaster, mostly because of his low opinion of the Boardwalk in general, but he nods in agreement. It’s old and wooden, and those kinds of coasters are basically awesome by definition. Jared’s enthusiasm is hard not to adopt.

“How’s your arm? I haven’t seen you for ages.”

Jensen blinks and looks down at his still-bandaged wrist. “Oh, it’s… I get the stitches out in a couple weeks.”

Jared nods and starts to say something else, but closes his mouth again instead. Then they’re at the top, the people at the front are starting to scream, and Jensen’s mind goes a little blank of everything that doesn’t have to do with steep downhill plunges.

After an eternity of bumping and jostling against Jared— he’s got a lot of body heat, Jensen never realized— and a quick succession of equally sharp drops, Jensen manages to get some of his confusion back. He ponders. First Jared was nowhere to be seen. Then he had friends over so that was alright, but then he was looking at Danneel and Matt like he cared and now… Now he’s acting normal. Jensen’s not sure where they stand, or if any of it even makes a difference to Jared.

Maybe he was just preoccupied. Maybe he doesn’t think about Jensen at all.

Then, on the last snap-twist of track, Jared seizes Jensen’s good wrist and grips tight, lurching sideways in the car, and all Jensen can feel is the warmth of that hand around his arm.

**

Four rides later, Jared’s gone again and Jensen desperately wants something to drink. Julie and Lauren hit it off with A.J.’s group and wandered away a while back. Danneel tried to drag Jensen onto the Pirate Ship with Aldis, Beth and Matt, but Jensen’s feeling a little queasy after the Double Shot. He needs Coke to settle his stomach because he hasn’t been on the Tsunami yet and— okay, Jensen will admit it— he fucking loves that ride. He never comes here after all, and he’s not going to miss a rare chance to sate a guilty pleasure.

He pays the equivalent of his immortal soul for a Coke at the nearest stand and watches Danneel shriek and laugh as the ship swings, clinging to Matt, who looks like he’s having the time of his life. Ah, buttercups and tweety birds.

“Sorry, man.”

Jensen turns, halfway through a sip, and finds Jared right behind him, hands in his pockets and wearing a grim look on his face. He chokes a little. “Huh? For what?”

Jared shrugs and nods at the ride. “Them. Flaunting it everywhere like that. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jensen shakes his head. “No— Wait, you mean Danneel? No, we’re not— There’s nothing like that.”

Jared looks at him. “But I— Weren’t you on a date with her? The other night. Well, a week ago. You know.”

Jensen shakes his head again. He’s shaking his head a lot. It feels weird. “Well, we were. But not together. She’s a friend.”

“I gathered.” Jared still looks somewhat mutinous.

Jensen ventures closer. “No, it’s really okay. Danneel had a thing for the waiter and asked me to come along. I was just moral support.”

Jared’s expression goes from surprise to confusion, and then it clears and _there’s_ that smile that makes Jensen’s heart skip. “Oh. Oh, I thought… Wait a minute, she took you on a date in order to get a different date with another guy?”

Jensen blushes, but it’s still fucking funny. “Danneel’s a special one.”

Jared laughs out loud and Jensen feels like he did when they were on the steps at Porter and he was playing his guitar and it was just the two of them.

Of course, that means Jensen can’t let it be. “Nah, I don’t like Danneel. Like that. I’m not really into—”

He flushes again and looks down, not willing to see if Jared’s reacting, if he gets what Jensen almost said. Jensen’s out, but he’s not _out_ out, broadcast-it-to-the-world out. If his friends ask, he tells them. Otherwise he doesn’t offer. And he almost just spilled it to Jared, who is probably the one who most needs to know this information, but the thought of Jared knowing and it coming to nothing, or even backfiring outrageously, is suddenly too much, too embarrassing, and—

“Hey, Jay, come on already!”

Jensen looks up. Milo and the rest of Jared’s group are across the way. Milo’s face screws up and he beckons with one hand.

“Dude, thought you wanted to do DDR!”

“I do!” Jared starts forward, then glances at Jensen before calling to Milo again. “But I want a soda, first. Go on, I’ll catch up.”

Milo’s nose scrunches. The rest of the group turns away, heading for the big building that houses the laser tag and the arcade. After a second, Milo follows.

Jared stands there awkwardly for a second before getting in line for his drink. Jensen waits, not sure if he’s supposed to. But when Jared rejoins him, his smile is back in place and Jensen can’t decide if he ever saw anything else.

“You like the arcade?”

Jensen does, but he’s more the observing type. He’s good at air hockey and skee ball, but as far as electronic games go, he mostly just likes to watch other people kick ass. He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s… It’s good.”

Wow, he’s the king of small talk tonight. He could slap himself.

Jared takes a long drink. “Come on, then.”

They walk slowly, meandering around the crowds while Jared slurps on his soda. Jensen’s finished with his, but he keeps the cup just for something to hold. Eventually the ice will melt and he’ll have Coke water to drink. He thinks about asking Jared if he wants to ride the Tsunami, but his stomach’s still not settled yet— the jumping around has begun anew since Jared initiated a conversation with him. He wants to stave off the arcade, and Milo and the rest, for a little longer.

But Jared doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. He talks about how good it is to see Milo again, mentions that he roomed with him the first year before Milo switched universities. But now he’s with Chad and a guy named Louis who is really awesome at surfing but has a habit of being too noisy around midnight, letting doors slam and all that when he gets back from the bathroom. Jensen can relate. He did his time with annoying roommates when he was a freshman and a sophomore; he’s got plenty of stories to tell, including one about the time his roomies got carted off by the cops in the middle of downtown for being drunk and disorderly _and_ underage. And seeing as they were in Santa Cruz, it takes some doing to get arrested for that shit.

“I’m just glad I was still back at Rosie McCann’s paying the stupid bill for their stupid food,” he finishes, and finds Jared laughing again, eyes alight and utterly focused on him. It’s a really nice feeling.

A second later Jensen loses his train of thought and it gets really uncomfortable instead.

They walk in silence for a few minutes. A bunch of kids run past, weaving around Jensen as they attempt to escape their parents’ round-up.

“Hey,” Jared says suddenly, “you like The Pretenders?”

Jensen nods. Who doesn’t?

Jared lifts his chin and a tiny grin flashes across his mouth. “You should come over next week. My buddy Lex gave me a bunch of sheet music from the place she works. For guitar, you know. It’s surplus. Overstock.” Jared’s shoulders hunch a little. He turns it into a shrug. “Told her I had a friend.”

Jensen’s a little lost for words, mostly because he doesn’t know what to react to first: Jared asking him over or Jared getting sheet music specifically with him in mind. “That’s— yeah.”

Jared’s brow wrinkles. “What?”

Jensen forces his thoughts into order. “Thanks for… I’d like to come over, yeah.” Okay, _kind of_ into order. “Take a look at what she gave you.”

Jared grins fully again. “Here, give me your cell number and I’ll call you with my room number. Sunday alright?”

It’s more than alright: they’ve got a three day weekend, the last one before the finals crash for winter quarter. Jensen’s pulse is already beating faster. He nods and gets his cell out. They exchange numbers. It’s hard for Jensen to enter the number correctly into his phone, his fingers are so shaky.

**

It takes them ten minutes to locate Milo and the rest once they get inside the arcade, and then the group envelops them like an amoeba and Jared gets dragged off so Milo can stomp him at DDR. Sandy gets hold of Jensen and involves him in a conversation with the other two girls for a while. They’re friendly, but like Sandy, they talk a lot. Jensen gets enough to know that Sophia and Chad are the on-again-off-again type of couple (currently off, by the faces Sophia’s making every time his name pops up), and Genevieve (“Gen to my friends, hey, we’ve got that in common!”) is a marine bio major who spends all her time either at the bottom of the bay or at the Long Marine Lab being totally smarter than Jensen. That’s his personal opinion, not hers; she’s pretty much the nicest person he’s ever met. They ask him all sorts of things and he answers awkwardly until he finally slides out of the conversation by offering to get more change for everyone’s bills.

And the night winds on.

It’s fun because someone’s always shouting too loud about kicking someone else’s ass, but Jensen’s skittish. It’s so stupid; he hasn’t actually been victimized and he knows it, but Milo and Zack just send jitters into his gut, discomfort he hasn’t felt since he was a junior in high school. He can feel his shoulders stiffening up, all tight and tense just like back then. To top it all off, he hasn’t said much besides ‘yeah’ and ‘cool’ to Jared for over an hour.

He wants to go outside, and he’s itching to find an excuse for Jared to go with him. He still hasn’t ridden the Tsunami, and now it’s dark. The Boardwalk changes at night, all lights and shadows, fires on the beach— crazy and strange and surreal.

Jared liked the Giant Dipper. He’d probably like the Tsunami.

But every time he does get Jared alone— relatively, because the place is as crowded as The Catalyst on a show night— his nerves fail and he ends up commenting on random things, like the girl across the room who can’t even seem to sit down, her skirt is so short, or how he hasn’t played a proper arcade game since Mortal Kombat III. Which gets Jared on a tangent, and while it’s beyond awesome that they both dig Scorpion and Raiden the most, it feels more and more like some sort of failure each time Jensen’s tongue tangles itself into a knot.

Eventually Milo finds more fun to be had in trouncing Zack at Street Fighter the Umpteenth Edition, and Jared wanders over to the row of pinball machines in the corner. There are a lot of people pouring in and out of the arcade; the late-nighters who will spill into clubs down the street after the Boardwalk closes, college students and locals dressed in all sorts of styles, some barely dressed at all. Jared squeezes into place in front of an unused machine and Jensen pushes in beside him. Jared plays two full games before sticking his hand in his pocket and coming up empty. He shoves off the machine with a strained smile toward Jensen, and the space fills with overexcited teenagers wearing psychedelic cyberpunk weaves in their hair.

Jensen inches up against the wall, trying to find some sort of equilibrium in the crush. They’re in a pocket of stillness, alongside an eddy where the surging crowd mills around and around, the same people pushing and shoving past, talking and laughing, slugging each other on the shoulders.

Jensen finally finds his voice again. “Hey, you want to go ride the Tsunami before it shuts down?”

Jared frowns and leans in. “What?”

“The Tsunami,” Jensen shouts. He gestures outside. Jared’s frown only deepens. He cups a hand around his ear.

A pack of people rushes by, one of them bumps hard into Jared, and suddenly Jensen is pinned between the wall and the weight of Jared’s body. Jensen locks eyes with Jared, and his heart thrums the sensation of discomfort right out of his brain.

He can feel Jared’s muscles against his… oh, god, his entire front. The swift in-out of his breathing. The lights skitter over Jared’s face, red-blue-yellow. Someone wins at pinball behind them, and amidst the yelling and cheering, Jared pushes forward and kisses Jensen on the mouth.

His lips are warm, parted. He tastes like soda and candy. A frantic flicker of tongue brushes Jensen’s lips. He feels hands under his shirt, almost too cold for his ribs where they’re sliding up, and it’s especially tough to think. Jensen tries for long enough to remember to kiss back, but Jared abruptly pulls away and presses his lips into a thin line. He leans forward again, but Jensen’s too dazed to reciprocate. And then he does, but by that time, Jared’s already moving back.

They stare at each other, the lights spinning dizzily. Jensen finds that Jared still has his hands under his shirt, and Jensen has _his_ hand clenched around the fabric of _Jared’s_ shirt. He can feel Jared’s heartbeat, a wild flutter just under the tips of his fingers.

“Jay! Where the fuck are you?”

Jared’s gone before Jensen registers Milo’s voice. He remembers to breathe, then struggles off the wall, face heating, straightening his shirt and looking around. He finds himself nearly on top of the group as it flows past. He’s right near Jared in particular, again. Except Jared just gives him a lazy half-smile and starts in on a conversation with Milo, who thinks the beach here sucks— small world— but if they go up the coast toward Natural Bridges, they’ll find some sweet spots.

They end up on the beach below the Boardwalk anyway. None of the people Jensen invited are there anymore, just Jared’s friends. Jensen shuffles through the sand holding his shoes, but Jared puts people between them, laughs and slaps hands, and doesn’t look at Jensen for the rest of the night.

**

Jensen would have woken up on Saturday confused about why he felt so unsettled, except for the fact that he doesn’t sleep much at all Friday night. Instead he staggers out of bed feeling like his entire body is bloodshot, not just his eyes. He can still taste the pressure of Jared’s mouth on his, the almost-pain of it, the speed, and of course, the absence. As if that weren’t enough, it also feels like there are big handprints on his ribs.

Jared doesn’t call or text him on Saturday, and after lunch, Jensen passes out in front of the TV halfway through a garlic cheese quesadilla. He wakes up to Misha settling a frayed blue shawl with baby bunnies all over it on his chest.

“Um, thanks.”

Misha smiles. “I heard you tossing and turning all night.”

Shit. Jensen struggles upright. “I’m sorry, man. Didn’t mean to keep you awake.”

Misha cocks his head. “What do you mean? I slept like a baby.”

Try as he might, Jensen really has no response to that. Misha pats his arm and goes into the kitchen, humming something that sounds vaguely like a song from The Little Mermaid.

Sunday rolls around and finds Jensen pacing his room, staring down at his cell. His arm itches and he can’t scratch it. Jared kissed him and hasn’t called. Jared _felt him up_ and hasn’t called. Jensen wonders if this is what going crazy feels like, way at the beginning before the fun really starts.

At least one question is answered: Jared’s attracted to him. Or was last night. Jensen sits down and gets up again. He’s not hungry or thirsty or tired or anything anymore. He just… wants to know. If Jared likes him, why did he keep him at arm’s length after kissing him? Jared wasn’t acting weird, he was acting like he usually acts around his friends, sans kissing said friends. And Jared invited him over today. Does the invitation still stand or should Jensen quietly let it slide? He’d _like_ to go over, maybe kiss Jared again. But what if Jared tried what he wanted to try and didn’t like it, and therefore doesn’t really want to kiss Jensen or get his hands under his shirt again, ever?

Maybe he’s over-thinking this entire thing.

He knows what Chris would say: call Jared and act normal. Josh would say the same thing, only with the additive of “you big, ugly baby.” Danneel would squeal at him for having a crush on Jared for so damn long and probably try to call Jared herself so she could play matchmaker. Jensen is rabidly opposed to that series of events. Meanwhile, though, the day is passing him by and he can’t seem to put his damn phone down for any length of time.

It gets worse. Soon Jensen has Jared’s number across the screen, just waiting for a single tap of the send button. He thinks maybe he’ll let himself off the hook by accidentally hitting the button with this thumb, because then Jared will just call him back and Jensen will have to talk to him. Except what if Jared sees his incoming number and doesn’t call back? That might be even more demoralizing.

Jensen reminds himself again that Jared invited him. _Jared_ invited _him_. He has sheet music that, frankly, Jensen wouldn’t mind taking a look at and possibly getting for free. Not to mention that it’s finally something they have in common: musical taste. He’s dying to talk to Jared for real, get to know him, introduce who he really is to Jared and not just in the interest of mutual friends and small talk at parties.

He likes the guy. A lot. And in spite of all the standard things that could go wrong, Jared’s actually into guys; plus, he’s shown interest in Jensen. Jensen really shouldn’t let such an amazing coincidence get away from him.

 _Maybe Jared was just nervous with his childhood friend there,_ Jensen thinks, sitting down on his bed and lifting the phone. When he finally hits send, the ringing gives way to an explosion of sound. Jensen winces away from the phone.

“Hey, Jensen! Hello? Jensen?”

“Hey. Yeah.” Jensen stumbles over the words. He clears his throat, which suddenly feels very, very full. “Hey, where are you? I can barely hear you.”

Jared’s chuckle trips down the line. “I’m sorry, I know. Roommate’s throwing a party. What’s up?”

The good thing is that the noise is distracting Jensen from his nervousness. “Oh, I— It’s Sunday.” Good lord, he’s just inviting himself over to someone else’s place now? “I just thought, you know, you said today would be good to—”

“Sheet music!” Jared cries. “Yeah! Oh shit, I knew there was a reason I wanted to nix this party. Hey, you still want to come over?”

Yes, Jensen does. Jared sounds incredibly normal, like nothing happened Friday night, crushed into a wall at the Boardwalk with a hundred people around. For a second, Jensen’s pulse ratchets. Fuck, he didn’t imagine that kiss. Did he?

“Jen? Sorry, I missed whatever you just said. God, sometimes I hate Chad.” Jensen hears a door shut and the noise is muffled.

Jared left the party in order to talk to him.

The strain he’s been carrying around since Friday loosens all at once and Jensen smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come by.”

“Awesome.” Jared sounds genuinely glad, and this time Jensen wonders if he didn’t make up all of Jared’s avoidance instead.

Jared gives him his building and room number, followed by “just follow the damn noise!” and a laugh. And then maybe Jensen takes twenty minutes trying to decide between his black Voltaire shirt and his green Flogging Molly shirt, but he’s not telling anyone.

He ends up going with Voltaire over a pair of black jeans and the grey corduroy jacket he begged off of Josh once his brother grew out of it. He also ends up spiking his hair like he did on Friday night. He walks across campus, a straight shot through the woods past the library and on up to Cowell and Stevenson. Jared’s in one of the older buildings, tucked back into the trees. The door is propped open with a shoe and it sounds like the whole third floor is partying. By the looks on the faces of two girls he passes on his way up the stairs, Jensen estimates about half an hour before campus security shuts the party down.

The third floor is indeed hopping when Jensen reaches it. The music definitely isn’t a band he’s into, but it’s not atrocious or anything. Just too loud. In fact, he’s amazed he didn’t hear this party all the way from the Cowell bus stop. There are a lot of people, guys and girls milling around in a hectic fashion. Jensen cranes his neck, trying to see a path through the crowd.

The door to Jared’s room is wide open, and evidently the room is the hub of the celebration. Jensen peers in but gets blocked by someone coming out.

“Hey, I know you!” It’s Zack, holding a beer and squinting at him. “It’s Jason, right?”

“Jensen.”

“ _Jensen,_ yeah.” Zack takes a slug of beer and waves him in. Jared’s in one of those huge corner rooms with lots of windows and three sets of dorm furniture. The place is packed. Jensen squeezes through the door and stops. Zack nods at him. “What happened to your hand?”

Jensen blinks. “Uh, stitches.”

Zack nods again. “Jay’s here. Somewhere. Want a beer?”

“No, thanks.”

“Right on.” Zack tips his bottle toward him and departs, disappearing backward into the crowd. Which leaves Jensen pressed up against another wall and surrounded by people he doesn’t know. Again.

Jared’s tall. He should be easy to spot. Jensen tries to case the joint without looking too out of place, but he already feels pretty isolated. This is a whole other type of drunk than what goes on at Aldis’ parties. Their friends are squirrelly, sure, but the whole vibe is mellow, lazy instead of absolutely insane. Jensen can sense the edge in the air here, the hard core lying underneath the booze and the laughter. He twitches, feels his shoulders hunching and forces them down.

“Hey, hey!”

Jensen jumps; how could he have missed Jared’s approach? “Hey,” he tries, but the greeting chops itself in half when Jared’s hand lands on his hip, cupping lightly. Jensen sucks in a breath. Lord almighty, this guy is going to send him into a state of seizure.

“You made it,” Jared says, all smiles. He’s got a beer in one hand, but he seems sober enough, unlike the guys that just crab-walked past the doorway outside. Jensen stares. It’s like his mind is frozen, a computer trying to process too many commands. He can feel Jared’s hand like an extra layer on his hip.

“I did,” Jensen manages after a second. He nods, glancing around. “Uh. Mad party.”

“Yeah, I don’t even know. Dude, who’s Voltaire?”

Now Jared’s fingering the hem of his shirt. Jensen’s cheeks heat, but it’s more pleasure than embarrassment this time. “He’s this musician, mostly goth, kind of like Weird Al but—”

That’s when he notices that he has more of an audience than he thought. Chad’s behind Jared, looking fairly welcoming, but beyond him is Milo, and the look on his face isn’t welcoming at all. It’s not much of anything, really. Jensen stutters and changes direction. “He’s, he’s really cool. You’d probably like him.”

Lame. So lame. But Jared doesn’t seem to have noticed. He’s nodding, still gripping Jensen’s hip. “Cool. Hey, I’ll get you a beer.”

“No, that’s okay.” Jensen grabs Jared’s arm instinctively, and quickly lets go. He runs his hand through his hair instead. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? I might have non-alcoholic somewhere, I think.”

Jensen thinks that he’d look even lamer if he accepted that. He shakes his head, tries to smile, but Jared’s already moving away.

“Gonna get myself a new drink, change the music, you know. I’ll be right back.”

Chad slaps Jensen’s shoulder and drifts off in Jared’s wake, bopping along to the beat. Jensen lowers his eyes and keeps them down, aware that Milo is staring at him. Or maybe he just thinks Milo’s staring, but the effect is the same.

“What the hell happened to you anyway?”

That gets Jensen’s head up. Milo is pointing at his bandaged hand.

“Oh, I—” He lifts his arm and lets it drop. Maybe he can actually start up a decent conversation instead of being a total ingrate. “Someone broke a glass at a party we had and I got cut. Had to get stitches.”

Milo raises one dark eyebrow and swigs from his bottle of Heineken. “Never would have pegged you for a wild partier.”

“I’m not.”

Milo makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. Jensen doesn’t think it’s meant to be sympathetic.

They stand there for a long while, through two songs. Milo doesn’t say a word. He isn’t even looking at Jensen anymore. Jensen feels like he’s either vanished or become very small. The party continues to rage on around him, but he doesn’t feel remotely like he’s part of the stream. And Jared isn’t coming back. Jensen can see him across the room by the CD player, arguing good-naturedly with some guy and gesturing like he’s trying to knock people out.

Another song goes by, and another. Jared has disappeared completely, sometime during the few seconds Jensen was playing with his jacket sleeve. He fidgets, feeling more out of place by the minute.

He should just go. This isn’t his scene. But Jared’s here, Jared invited him, and Jensen can still feel the ghostly tug of Jared’s fingers on his shirt. Except Jared’s gone, has been for a while. How he got out of the room is a mystery to Jensen, seeing as he’s still standing next to the door, but he’s definitely not here. And things are getting rowdier.

“Gonna stick around?”

Jensen jumps, again, at Milo’s question. He wrinkles his nose, eyeing a guy who has spilled his drink down the front of his shirt and is listing slowly forward onto the floor. Behind him, a girl staggers over one of the desk chairs and nearly faceplants. He makes a decision. “No, I don’t think so.”

Milo’s lip curls. “I thought not.”

Jensen frowns, trying to sort through Milo’s tone, but the noise is pounding, tensing his entire body in waves. He feels fucking uncomfortable, surrounded by people who are so drunk they’ve gone stupid. He’d thought he and Jared would get the sheet music and then go somewhere less crazy, thought they could talk or something, but it’s obvious that Jared’s not as interested in that as Jensen thought he was. Anyone else would just go find Jared and remind him of their plans, but Jensen’s already feeling like an imposition. He also doesn’t want to be barfed on. He’s pretty sure a lot of these kids aren’t legal to drink, and they’re making no effort to hide the party.

“I should… go.” It sounds dumb, even to him.

Milo peers at him with narrowed eyes. “Not even gonna wait for Jay?”

He should. He really should. But he can’t think. Every limb is tense, every nerve firing in jumpy bursts. Someone jostles him hard and Jensen feels the first threads of panic.

He didn’t think Jared was this kind of partier.

“No, I— Can you tell him I’ll call him? Come over some other time.”

Milo snorts. “Yeah, whatever,” he says and waves Jensen away.

Jensen doesn’t even register his own movements until he’s out of the room, out of the building, and crossing back into Cowell in the pink light of dusk.

Later that evening, his phone buzzes. Jensen pulls it out and sees a text from Jared.

 _Dude u abandoned me! :)_

Jensen stares for a moment, chewing his lip. His fingers type out a shaky response almost on their own: _No you abandoned me._

He presses delete.

~tbc~


	3. Chapter 3

As if echoing the confusion of Jensen’s life, it pours, hails, and gusts repeatedly for the next three days, not necessarily in that order. Monday is okay, but on Tuesday, Jensen has to actually go outside and find a classroom or three to be present in at specific times. He spends the entire day soaked all the way up to the thighs of his jeans, with tennis shoes wet and squelchy and an umbrella that would rather be inside out. Whenever he’s still, he’s freezing. Whenever he’s moving, he’s just getting wetter. He ends up drinking two chai lattes in Kresge Café, trying to convince himself that he doesn’t have any calls from Jared because Jared lost his phone.

On the way back to his place, he remembers that he doesn’t have anything left in his cupboard, and curses his way across campus to the main parking lot. He passes the sports fields, drizzly and grey, and recognizes Aldis in muddied sweats, churning around in the slop with the rest of the Ultimate team. He finds Jared automatically and watches him twist, shoot off the Frisbee, then get knocked into the mud. Jared gets to his feet, hair drooping over his eyes. One hand runs down the front of his shirt, slicking it tight to his skin. Jensen swallows.

Someone calls a break. Jensen knows that Jared sees him when his running falters and his hand climbs into the air. Jared tugs on the hem of his shirt, breathing hard and staring at Jensen up on the hill.

Jensen waits till the break is over and they’re all occupied again, then hoofs it toward his car as fast as he is able. For the rest of the night, his phone remains silent.

Wednesday’s even worse. And that should have been a warning to him.

His last class ends at five, and the clouds look like they’re actually fixing to rush the earth and flatten it. He’s soaked. He has failed utterly, again, at keeping his bandaged stitches dry and it’s kind of hard to rewrap that shit properly without help. He’s looking forward to the hot cocoa he bought the night before, to getting into the shower, to stripping all these damp layers off and going to sleep. Half of him is at war with the other half: Jensen longs for a quiet apartment, but at the same time, he yearns for Aldis to have guests over. He needs to see Jared; he’s not sure why it’s so strong today. It’s like he can’t sit still or think on a single topic for more than three seconds.

On top of that, he’s pretty sure he just tanked a pop quiz on the height of the jazz era and he’d like to have an excuse to smile tonight. He’d _really_ like to give Jared an opportunity to continue the make out session they started in the arcade. If he wants to.

He discovers Misha outside their door, holding a bulging backpack, one of those huge art bags, a Modern Genetics book, a nine-iron, and the biggest jar of pickles Jensen’s ever seen in his life. Misha’s staring forlornly down at the ring of keys resting on the rug.

“If I move, I’ll drop my pickles,” Misha says glumly.

Misha is sort of at an angle, like in one of those V8 commercials: Jensen realizes he’s leaning against the wall beside the door, pickles and book pressed between his chest and the façade. It would be hilarious if Jensen wasn’t feeling just this side of miserable.

“I got it.” He bends down for Misha’s keys and unlocks the door. Misha sighs, hitches everything up in his arms and staggers off the wall. Jensen catches him as he reels a little too far backward and pushes in the direction of their apartment.

Inside, Misha manages to get his shoes off without the use of his hands and wobbles down the hall under his load. Jensen shuts the door and hears voices. _Voices._ One of them’s Chad, he’s sure, which means—

“Hey, it’s Mishaaaaaa!” A resounding greeting from Aldis in the living room. Jensen struggles with his shoes, hopping on one foot, but he can’t get them off without slinging his messenger bag on the floor first. Fucking laces. Double knots sound so good in theory.

“It’s meeeeeeee!” Misha says in the same tone. Someone laughs: Jared. Jensen would put money on it. The heaviness in his chest finally starts to uncoil.

“That’s cool, man.” Chad. “Ha, for a second there—”

“I’m having a pickle. Want a pickle?”

“Um. No. But thanks.” Scattered laughter. Jensen gets one shoe off. It hits the carpet with a sodden thump and he hears Misha setting things on the kitchen counter with loud thuds.

“No, but see, that’s what I mean,” Chad continues. “Look at Misha. That guy doesn’t even try to be something he’s not, you know? He’s just weird and it’s all good.”

“Gee, Chad, that’s sweet of you,” Jared says with a laugh.

“No, come on, I mean he’s not a poser. Well, maybe he’s a new age brand of poser or something. But that doesn’t matter because no one knows it. No one’s thinking he’s trying to be something he’s not, or that he’s stupid or whatever. Just that he’s weird. But he doesn’t care, so screw ‘em. You know?”

“I do think there might be wisdom somewhere in there, Chaddo.” Jared’s still chuckling.

“Very wise,” Misha chimes in from the kitchen. “Like Buddha.”

“God, it’s so fucking refreshing. He’s kind of like… the cooler version of Milo.”

This time Jared’s laugh sounds a little embarrassed. “Aw, Chad, shut up. Milo’s not _that_ bad.”

“Dude, he really is. Besides, you already know I hate that guy.” There’s a sound of someone rifling through a bowl of chips. Jensen finally shucks his other shoe and picks up his sopping bag, digging a giant music text out of it. He paid more than his life is worth for this and now it’s all wet. Chad’s voice carries again. “But you know what, I’ll give him this: at least he’s not a poser either. He’s an asshole, straight up, and everyone knows it right away.”

“You ever said that to his face, man?”

“Hell, no. He’d kick my ass. But see, that’s my point. That’s what I don’t get. He’s a total jock. He should be getting all kinds of crap from people about being dumb or beating up kids so they do his homework for him, but he doesn’t because the way he insults them is too smart.”

Jensen reaches the doorway to the living room, strangely elated to find out that Chad thinks Milo’s a jerk, too.

“What, you saying jocks aren’t smart?” Aldis teases.

“No, man, I’m saying we’re not _trying_ to be all smart. Like you, Al. You’re okay being normal and not all snobby, all… Dude, Jay, what was that word you used? Per— pretend or—”

“Pretentious,” Jared says. He’s on the couch across from Jensen, next to Aldis, but he’s looking down, shifting a little to grab chips from the bowl.

“Yeah, pretentious!” Chad claps his hands together. “I mean, really. Watching foreign films like they actually speak the language and listening to weird-ass music no one else has heard of.”

Jared snorts around the chip he’s just put into his mouth. “Yeah, I admit, the music does get a little bizarre.”

Chad snorts. “See? Why I can’t stand people who know they’re all smart and shit. Looking down at us like we’re not smart, too.”

At that moment, Jared looks up and spots Jensen. His eyes widen. “Aw, come on,” he says uncomfortably. “Smart people aren’t like that.”

Chad scoffs. “Please. I remember you saying you’d never be able to really trust those people. Writers and artists and all that, hanging out in museums and shit instead of chilling and partying and just acting like _normal_ kids. ‘Too lost in their own genius,’ that’s what you always say. Direct quote.”

Jensen can feel the weight of the book in his hand, but he can’t feel where he’s holding it, as if his hand has gone dead or something. He stares over Chad’s head into Jared’s eyes.

“Chad, shut the fuck up,” Aldis says quietly.

“What? Jay says it. I’m just quoting him.”

 _“Chad,”_ Jared hisses. His face turns bright red and his eyes shift away.

All Jensen knows is that Jared isn’t contradicting anything.

The book slips out of his grasp and hits the floor. Chad jumps and looks over his shoulder, frowning. Jensen leans over, retrieves the text with shaking fingers. He gets into his room and shuts the door before anyone says another word.

**

The next day, he goes in to get his arm looked at. The doctor turns his hand this way and that, checking tendons, then frowns and tells him he needs to stop with the guitar completely until the stitches come out. He’s putting too much strain on them and the cut’s not mending properly. It he doesn’t want to reopen his wound, he has to give it a rest.

The day is just bad.

**

“Hey, man.” Aldis taps at his door with his knuckles. “I’m gonna call in for a pizza. You want any?”

Jensen looks up from his book and blinks at his housemate. God, he’s been staring at tiny text for too long. “Uh, sure. Pepperoni?”

Aldis grins. “Just what I was going for.”

Jensen expects him to leave, but Aldis hesitates in the doorway. “Dude, you doing alright?”

“Yeah, why?” It might come out too fast, but Jensen can’t change it now.

Aldis shrugs. “Haven’t seen much of you for a few days. You’re not avoiding me, are you?” He says the last bit with a smile, but his eyes are serious.

“No,” Jensen says, waving his hand. “Not avoiding you.”

Aldis catches the emphasis on the last word. He pushes the door open fully and comes in. “It’s Jared. Right?”

Okay, Jensen needs to stop being so obvious about everything. He forgets sometimes that his housemates live here too and know him well enough to notice when something’s off-kilter. Or when he’s moony-eyed. He looks away and shrugs.

“Just didn’t know he felt that way about…” _Me._ “Artsy people.”

“Jen, come on,” Aldis coaxes. “It’s Jared. You know he didn’t mean anything by it.”

Jensen stares at his hands for another second. “Yeah,” he says finally, letting out a small, amused sound. “Yeah, I know that.”

Aldis smiles again. But he still looks worried. He slaps Jensen on the back and heads out of the room. Jensen lets his own smile slip.

What if Jared did mean something by it? Yeah, it’s Chad, and yeah, Chad’s kind of good at getting facts mixed up. But Jared hadn’t argued. Hadn’t said anything to deny Chad’s claims. Is that what Jared really thinks about people like Jensen?

Bullshit. Santa Cruz is the wrong place to be if Jared’s really that closed-minded. But all Jensen has to do is think about that awkward party at Stevenson, or the way he flipped out over a book of poetry in the middle of his own party, or how he gets so buried in his music that he doesn’t notice his best friend has picked up a new base player for his band. How he thinks Chad’s kind of an idiot. How much Misha weirds him out sometimes. How quickly he passed judgment on Milo.

And god, Voltaire. There he was, about to start spouting off for ages about one of his favorite musicians, and Jared probably didn’t even care.

Aldis, he never looks down on Aldis. And he can’t ever remember thinking Jared was stupid. But it’s a cold comfort next to the rest.

**

He ends up skipping out on the Ultimate game he promised he’d go to that weekend. Not by design: Jensen gets dressed and gets as far as McHenry before his nerves fail him and he turns back.

He can’t face Jared, wondering what Jared’s really seeing when he looks at Jensen. He’d never gotten the feeling he was being judged, but now he can’t shake it off. Part of him tries to be angry, but he’s really just sad.

He’s good for random kissing, it seems, for feeling up under clothing. But apparently not for conversation amongst other people or for keeping plans to get together. Jared had music for him, but maybe Jared is only paying lip service to Jensen’s taste for some reason that Jensen doesn’t know yet. Maybe just to get into his pants or… something.

It’s an ugly, poisonous thought. It makes Jensen’s anger flare. It makes him feel sick again. It gives him a headache bad enough that when Aldis gets home wondering where he’s been, Jensen has a viable excuse.

But at least twice a day, Jensen is also ready to give Jared whatever he wants, regardless of the reasons behind it. It hurts. A lot. He’s so gone over Jared that he can’t make his mind stop spinning. Can’t stop questioning himself and his motives. Can’t stop wishing he’d gotten more than a kiss out of the whole thing.

**

Jensen’s sitting on the floor in his room picking at his guitar. Same discordant notes over and over because he’s not using his left hand except to hold the neck.

Someone knocks on the front door. Jensen listens long enough to determine that someone else is getting it, then zones out again, imagining he’s playing along with Jack White.

Until he hears Aldis—

“Yeah, he’s here.”

—followed by the voice his entire body reacts to. “He in his room?”

Jensen freezes up, even his heartbeat, he thinks. He takes a deep breath and shoves his guitar away with shaking hands.

Aldis again, sounding uneasy. “Nah, I don’t know, man. Not sure that’s a good idea.”

A beat of silence, then— “Please? Aldis, I need to talk to him.”

No one speaks for a moment. Jensen can practically see Aldis’ final shrug. “Alright, man. Your funeral.”

Jensen stares at his door, throat full. He could just get up. Slide the bolt and that would be it.

He stays where he is.

The soft tap at his door sounds extremely loud to his ears. Jensen swallows before he can speak. “Yeah?”

For a second, the door remains closed and Jensen wonders if Jared changed his mind. His stomach is just starting to ache when there’s a click and the door eases open. Jared stands there, looking somber. He’s in frayed jeans and a peach polo shirt with a little purple alligator embossed on his chest. “Hey. Jensen.”

He already knows he’s not going to kick Jared out. He just doesn’t know if he can physically invite Jared in. “Hey.”

“Can I…” Jared gestures hesitantly into the room. “Just for a second.”

Much easier this way. All he has to do is not argue. “Yeah.”

Jared steps inside and shuts the door behind him, but doesn’t come any closer. He shoves his hands into his pockets and shifts from foot to foot. Jensen wants to look away, but also doesn’t want to feel any less in control than he already does.

“Look,” Jared says at last. “I’m sorry. For what Chad said. And for not… arguing with him.”

Jensen nods, then wishes he hadn’t. “Oh.”

Jared looks even more uncomfortable. “Should have told him to shut up. Stop insulting people.”

Jensen knows he has to say something. Has to get to the point sooner rather than later so he can get this over with and stop torturing himself with all the unknowns. “If it’s what you think, though—”

“It’s not what I think.” Jared steps forward until he’s standing over Jensen. Jensen cranes his neck to meet his eyes. He has a good view of the ripple of Jared’s throat when he swallows. “I mean, I used to think that, back in high school. And last year.” Jared sighs. “Chad’s right, I did say those things. But I don’t say them anymore.”

“Do you think them?” Oh, he’s just going to make himself tear up like this, and in front of Jared, too. He’s such an idiot.

Jared’s lips thin. “No. I don’t make a habit of it anymore. Really, I don’t.”

Jensen nods again. His neck is starting to hurt. He gestures at the floor, hoping Jared will take the invite and sit down. Jared hesitates and then folds his limbs, easing down until he’s sitting sort of next to Jensen, sort of across from him. Not quite either.

“Then why—” Jensen clears his throat. “Why does Chad still think that?”

He watches Jared link and unlink his fingers. “Because I haven’t exactly stated that I’ve changed my mind, you know? Chad’s sort of… I guess it hasn’t occurred to him that things could be different. If I told him, he’d catch right on, but he’s the kind of person that, if you don’t mention it, he doesn’t really think about it. You know?”

Jensen doesn’t have any friends like that, but it does make sense with what he knows of Chad. Jared goes on, sounding ashamed.

“It’s just, sometimes, I don’t know, it’s like I’m not acting like myself. I just want people to like me, and I do stupid shit to get that.”

“People already like you.” Jensen wishes he could speak louder, but he’s taking what he can get at the moment.

Jared gives his head a dismissive shake. “Yeah, but not the people I should really want to like me. Like you. I’m pretty sure you like me a lot less right now.”

Jensen coughs. “Well, I’m not really all that smart anyway, as it turns out.”

Jared looks down. “Dude, you are so smart. _So_ smart. Look at the stuff you read. You’re taking Japanese and practically double majoring and… You’re a senior. And I’m just a sophomore who still manages to get lost on bus sixteen. Why would you want to be friends with me?”

He sounds so dejected, like that’s the end of the line and he’s just flopped down and given up.

Jensen gapes at him, completely confused. “I don’t know why anyone _wouldn’t_ want to be friends with you.”

Jared’s face goes through about six expressions and he doesn’t meet Jensen’s eyes in any of them. “Because I’m a jerk to people like you,” he mutters. An instant later, he waves it away. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I always fuck everything up.”

Funny, Jensen was just thinking the same thing about himself.

Jared heaves a sigh and picks at the carpet. “I don’t even know why I do it. Whenever I’m around Milo, I just— God.”

He rubs his forehead. Jensen kind of wants to take his hand and hold it.

“I think everyone does shitty things around certain people,” he admits.

Jared does meet his eyes this time. “But that’s not really who I want to be, you know? You can only use the whole peer pressure defense so often. Eventually, it’s down to you. It’s just the way you _are_.”

Jensen thinks that’s a pretty smart observation and says so. Jared blushes.

“Yeah, maybe.” He fiddles with the carpet some more. “Look, I’m really sorry. I’m in college, I need to just… grow up.”

“Me too,” Jensen says after a second. Jared glances at him and now Jensen is the one turning red. “What, you’re the only one who snap-judges people?”

That gets a tiny smile. It makes Jensen’s heart flutter because he really wasn’t trying for a laugh. Besides, Jared’s right: college is a clean slate, a whole other world. High school isn’t supposed to follow them here. For a while, Jensen was sure it hadn’t. It turns out that some people drag it along with them.

“You know,” he tries, already half regretting it, “you’re actually pretty damn intelligent. For a jock.”

Jared laughs outright. He nudges Jensen’s shoulder with his own. “And you’re pretty damn awesome for an artist.”

Jensen swallows. “So you do like me, then.”

He looks up and finds Jared much closer than expected, looking back. Jared clears his throat, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I, uh, thought that was kind of obvious.”

Maybe it should have been and Jensen really is a total whack job like Josh always says. He tries a smile. “Seemed like it at the Boardwalk.”

Jared’s eyes go so suddenly dark, pupils blown so wide, that Jensen leans back a little. He watches Jared moisten his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah,” Jared breathes, and just like that, Jensen’s heart is hammering. Jared sways closer. “Sorry about, you know. My hands up your shirt. I didn’t mean to— you know.”

“I wasn’t exactly complaining,” Jensen manages to say.

“So it was okay?” Jared’s really close, breathing over Jensen’s lips. “You wouldn’t mind if—”

“No,” Jensen blurts out, and Jared kisses him. It’s a good kiss, fucking hell, and it’s not tentative like it’s trying to find its way. It’s a full-on kiss, pressure and some tongue, and Jared tastes pretty good. The excitement of it explodes in Jensen’s chest and he finds himself unable to hold back the laughter. “Oh, thank god, you’re not all virginal about this.”

It’s a joke; it means Jensen’s finally feeling comfortable around Jared. But Jared freezes and pulls back, expression blank. Jensen tries to apologize, but Jared speaks first. “I’m not a virgin at all. Actually.”

Jensen bites his lip, wondering where perfect moments go when he kills them. “I’m… I didn’t mean that as—”

Jared shrugs. “No, it’s okay, I know. I just thought you should know. In case you thought I was.”

The words are laissez-faire but the tone is definitely conservative. Jensen nods, trying to figure out a response. “Okay. One less concern on the table, I guess.”

Jared stares at him and Jensen plunges on. “I mean, it’s good. I’m not either. I’ve been with a guy before.”

“Yeah.” Jared seems to pull even further into himself, which is the total opposite of what Jensen was aiming for. “Yeah, me too.”

Jensen’s neck prickles. “Um… You don’t sound too thrilled with it.”

“Well, it wasn’t really… I mean…” Jared rubs his hands over his knees. “Wasn’t that good. You know.”

Jensen thinks he might.

Jared’s cheeks go tomato-red. His eyes dart over Jensen’s face. “What was yours like? I— Wait, never mind.”

He gets up and Jensen pulls him back down. Thank god Jared’s off balance anyway, otherwise Jensen doesn’t know if getting all those arms and legs and that long body back on the floor is possible. Jared trips sideways and plunks back onto the carpet, grabbing at Jensen’s shoulder. He yanks his hand away.

“It wasn’t that good either,” Jensen says, quick as he can; he wants them on even footing. Jared stills. Embarrassment takes over: Jensen looks down. “My first time.”

Actually, it had hurt. He can hear Jared breathing.

“But it was better,” he goes on. “The second time.”

“Did you—” Jared gestures, wide and wobbly. “He your boyfriend?”

Jensen squirms. “Not exactly. I mean, there were two different guys. I didn’t— Not with the same guy.”

Jared looks as if he’s trying to decide what he wants to say next. Jensen hopes he didn’t just make himself undesirable.

“I’d want to be with you.” It rushes out of Jared’s mouth in a torrent, and the look on his face makes Jensen think Jared’s still not sure what came out. “I mean, I don’t want to be… you know.” Again with the hand-waving.

When Jensen figures out what he means, the relief is palpable. “Oh, no, me neither. I mean, yeah.” Okay, that made zero sense. Jensen feels his face turning as red as Jared’s. “I’m not a one-time kind of guy. I mean, I _did_. But I didn’t… like it.”

Jared fidgets. “I won’t— I know what you must be thinking.”

Jensen just blinks. “Huh?”

“I’m trying not to be that person anymore,” Jared says, eyes on the floor. “You know. Cliquey.”

Maybe he missed something. “I know.”

“I just mean that I won’t ditch this. Ditch _you_. The truth is, I like being around you so much more than Milo.”

Jensen half-nods, then— “Wait, is he the one you—”

“No!” Jared interrupts. He shakes his head furiously. “Oh, god no. Never been into him like that.”

Jensen’s stepping out on a limb here, but he thinks he’s on the right track. “Maybe that’s part of his problem.”

Jared peers at Jensen, then scoots forward and kisses him. He holds Jensen’s face in both hands. Jensen doesn’t move. All the air has been sucked right out of his body. He’s a little lightheaded and his heart must be going a mile a minute.

Jared pulls back; his breath trips over Jensen’s mouth. “That’s… Sorry.”

Oh, god, Jared is _that_ kind of hot guy, the kind that doesn’t even realize the effect he has on other people. The kind that thinks he’s botched something up when in reality he’s merely rendered the other person incapable of speech.

Jensen gets hold of Jared’s shirt— his hands still work even if the rest of him is out to lunch. Jared looks down at Jensen’s handful of fabric and swallows audibly.

“S’fine,” Jensen breathes and lunges across the distance, wanting that kiss again.

Jared kisses with the abandon of true enjoyment. He’s not trying to perform, not trying to keep control. His nose knocks Jensen’s and he misses the mark a few times. Their teeth clack painfully once. Jared tastes like M&Ms, his fingers are gentle on Jensen’s face, and he’s endearingly eager about getting his tongue into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen thinks the whole of it is rather nice.

“So we’re—” Jared starts, tongue still halfway in Jensen’s mouth, and pulls back. “—doing this?”

Jensen hesitates. “If you want to?”

“Do you want to?”

Jensen’s still recovering from the kiss. He can still taste Jared on his tongue. Jared’s expression is a little flat and Jensen doesn’t know what to think anymore.

Confessing that he’s been swooning over Jared for the last six months seems like too much information right now.

He shrugs uncomfortably. So Jared wants more than a one-night stand. But what if they have the one night (or afternoon, as the case happens to be) and Jared changes his mind? Things could just get weird without either of them planning it, and then Jensen will have slept with a guy he really actually _likes_ , in more than just a ‘hey, you’re hot’ kind of way, but that’ll be it.

Jared rubs his palms against his thighs. Up and down, up and down. It’s a nervous tic that Jensen is starting to recognize. “Um. Well, we can just… not, then. I guess.”

“Did you mean it? You want to be with me? _With_ with.”

Jared’s jaw works. Jensen’s sort of glad he can’t control his own mouth, and mortified at the same time.

“If you’re okay with that.” Jared almost sounds timid. Which is so bizarre. “You’re really— I mean, damn. I didn’t get it at first. But when I did, it was like… Dude, do you know how hot you are?”

“I’m a geek.” Oh, so he’s more mortified than glad now, definitely. Maybe he hasn’t moved as far beyond high school as he thought.

Jared’s brow wrinkles. “Okay. So?”

Jensen opens his mouth to explain the nuances, then gives up. He curls his fingers in Jared’s hair and tugs him forward again. Jared relaxes into it so completely that Jensen wonders if he actually is the knowledgeable one here. Jared’s following his lead like he’s trying to win Jensen over, except Jensen has been won over for ages.

Maybe it’s time they start communicating.

**

Jensen’s on his back, on his _bed_ , body tighter than a drum and losing control of what faculties he has left, because Jared when he’s naked is even hotter than Jared when he’s clothed. Jensen’s not sure how they got here. Well, of course he knows how they got naked and fumbled their way onto the bed. He just can’t get his head around the fact that this morning he was about as down as he’s ever been, and now he’s about to get fucked by the guy he’s been fantasizing about. Plus, he’s totally _naked_ , and he’s enjoying it and feeling overwhelmed by it all at once.

He’s awkward and open and a little uneasy about what will happen to his heart if this all goes wrong. It’s 2010, after all: Prince Charmings don’t just show up with happy endings in their backpacks anymore, and besides, it’s Santa Cruz, the laid-back hippie college, and Jared’s younger and things are about to get _really fucking intimate,_ and Jensen doesn’t usually do this the first time around. Not anymore.

He’s pretty worked up. Pretty sweaty. It turns out that Jared likes to kiss for extended periods of time. Which is awesome for foreplay, but it does odd things to Jensen’s brain: it makes it hard to keep track of the passing minutes and it makes Jensen’s whole self open up a little further than he’d planned.

Jared palms Jensen’s thigh, a firm squeeze and an equally affectionate caress. He kisses Jensen, short, intense presses of his mouth and strokes of his tongue. “God,” he says, “look at you. I can’t believe…”

Whatever Jared can’t believe disappears into another kiss. Jensen parts his legs until he can frame Jared’s hips between them.

“This okay?” Jared breathes, holding himself up on his elbows. He’s heavy, pressed all along Jensen, but that’s not why Jensen’s feeling short of breath.

“S’fantastic.” Because it is. Jensen’s so hard he could cry with it, and he can feel Jared right there against him. He really wants Jared to fuck him, like _really_ , but he feels all stuttery and twitchy in a way he’s never felt during sex.

“You’re a good kisser,” he murmurs to fill the silence, and Jared grins. And _blushes_. Holy hell.

“Because I really like kissing you,” Jared answers. He nuzzles their noses together. Good god, Jensen’s just about ready to offer himself up dry, and that’s not a good thing. He wants this to be good.

“Um—” He reaches for his jeans where they’re all scrunched between the bed and the wall, then wants to slap himself. He doesn’t exactly carry the stuff he needs in his pockets these days. He half-rolls— Jared lifts up a little— and jams his hand under the mattress, feeling around. It takes forever to find the lube and the string of condoms. “Here.”

Jared takes them slowly enough that their fingers slide together. He studies Jensen’s face. “Yeah? We could just…” He gestures, swinging the condoms. Jensen clenches his thighs around Jared’s hips.

“I’m game if you are.”

Maybe he doesn’t sound so sure though, because Jared’s still watching him like he’s waiting for something. Jensen nods, stroking his palm down Jared’s upper arm. “Really.”

Jared drops his head, bangs swinging low over his eyes. Jensen lifts his hand and fingers them. He’s wanted to do this for a long, long time.

He doesn’t want to get into first time rules or try to talk through his reasoning. He’s not sure he can fully define his motivation anyway. Jensen feels like he’s flying half-blind, and it’s amazing and scary and wonderful all at once. He’s so drawn to Jared that he could care less about his own rules for first times with someone, and that sends a titillating shiver down his spine.

When Jared raises his head, his cheek fits perfectly into Jensen’s palm. The look in his eyes is enough to make Jensen want to pull away, suddenly aware of how there’s nothing in between them, how close they are, not just physically but in other ways, too. Ways Jensen thought he was prepared for. It’s clear he isn’t.

God, what is it about Jared anyway?

“This isn’t what I came here for,” Jared says after a few seconds of silence. “I mean, I just wanted you to forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you—”

“You’re not making me do anything, Jared. I swear.” He could look at Jared’s eyes forever. Like a damn drug.

Jared leans in slowly, touching his lips to Jensen’s, brushing once, again. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

For a moment, he just stays where he is, breathing in tandem with Jensen, their mouths centimeters apart. Jensen loops his fingers through Jared’s hair again. Damp, but soft. He can’t even articulate how glad he is that Jared’s a kisser. During sex— well, Jensen’s praying that remains true.

Jared sits up a little and eases his thighs under Jensen’s. Jensen feels a little too exposed, but Jared unscrews the cap of the lube and slicks his fingers. First touch and Jensen can tell Jared’s done this before, to someone. He breathes slowly, in, out, shuts his eyes and concentrates on getting himself through this with minimal discomfort. The quickest lesson he learned from this type of sex is that half the problem is being tense.

But it’s hard not to be tense. This is Jared. It means more. Logically, it shouldn’t. But it does.

Jared’s fingers hurt, and eventually the uniqueness of the sensation can’t overpower it. Jensen sucks in a breath and forces himself not to arch, not to pull away from the intrusion.

Jared kisses his stomach right beneath his navel, and suddenly Jensen’s breathing hard and fast, blinking and curling his fists in the sheets. Jared’s head darts up.

“You okay?”

“I’m—” Surprised. Overwhelmed. Reacting way too much for this. “The others never did that.”

Why the hell does it turn him on so much? It’s not his prostate, for fuck’s sake, it’s not even an overly erogenous area for him. Jared kisses him again, same spot, and Jensen shudders, bumps his hips up and hits Jared’s chin lightly with his stomach. “S…sorry.”

Jared just kisses him again. Gradually, the pain whispers back to the forefront and Jensen could laugh. As a distraction, Jared’s method seems to be working well enough.

A few seconds later Jensen reaches that plateau of pain, where the pleasure has gained ground but it won’t be gaining any more like this. Jensen shifts his hips, restless, and feels for the hand Jared has splayed over his ribs. He grips Jared’s wrist and lets go. “Okay. You can do it now.”

Jared meets his eyes. His breathing is strained, skin running hotter than before. He’s fucking turned on. Jensen’s not sure he ever really looked at a partner like this before, actually noticed what he was doing to the other person. Jared plants a fourth kiss to Jensen’s belly and leans back one more time. He tears open the condom packet. Jensen wonders if he should offer to put it on Jared, but feels too out of sorts, too ready, to make his hands cooperate. A few seconds later, Jared shuffles closer, pulling Jensen’s thighs against his. “Tell me if it—” even as he’s pushing in, “hurts. Tell me?”

Jensen nods frantically, just wanting Jared to stop talking. He can feel too much all at once, the stretch and slide and none of it stops or eases, just grows. Expands. He knows this, he’s been through this. It’s no worse than the times before, but it’s like his body’s forgotten the details. He latches on to Jared’s arms and breathes. His face must be a sight because Jared stops.

A hand touches his face. “Jen.”

“S’fine,” Jensen manages. He opens his eyes and locks Jared’s gaze. “Just uncomfortable at first.”

And Jared waits. Good god. He touches Jensen with his fingers, teases him just enough, not too much, and it pulls the discomfort back out of reach. Jensen urges Jared forward again, and then he’s in, they’re through, and Jensen gasps. “Oh my god. Go. Move, come on.”

He can’t let it settle because then the pain will just take over, and Jensen knows if he— just—

Jared moves, a cautious, rolling thrust, and Jensen exhales hard. “Yes,” he says. Pulls Jared down and tries to coordinate himself enough to kiss his mouth. “Yes, keep—”

Oh, _fuck_ , Jared’s definitely done this before. It’s good. It’s too little but the mix of sensation is perfect. And yeah, this is obviously the perfect time to start gasping out stupid things. “God, I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

Jared’s eyes widen. The roll of his hips doesn’t quite stop, and Jensen feels mortified until Jared groans and shuts his eyes. He drops another kiss on Jensen’s lips. “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” Fuck, it still hurts. Jensen tries shifting, remembering to relax, to— oh _god_ , there, okay. He clenches his fingers into Jared’s shoulder. _“Fuck.”_

“Fuck yeah or—”

“Definitely fuck yeah,” Jensen gasps, hauling Jared down. He needs to kiss him, right now, it has to be n… now…

“Shit,” Jared whispers into his mouth. “Oh my god, I can’t—”

It’s totally okay if Jared comes now. Everything’s okay, everything’s fucking _rad_ now that Jensen’s forgotten where he left his brain. God, Jared is so perfect, he’s just, he’s fucking good at this, too. All that talent should not be packed into one person, they might use it for nefarious purposes, and how the fuck can Jensen come up with these things when he’s brainless?

“I have—” Jared hisses in his ear. “Fucking big crush— on you.”

Well, shit. Jensen’s body dives right over, no parachute, and it’s fucking long and fantastic and _good_. He’s a single enormous spark, every nerve ending at once, doesn’t know what he’s saying, Jared’s name maybe, and it doesn’t end and doesn’t end, and then, yeah, it ends and Jensen has no muscles left.

Everything is magnified. He can _feel_ Jared, still in him, still tight and tense and thrusting, pushing him against the sheets. He pulls Jared in, grabbing anywhere he can, and then he feels it when Jared loses it, feels a hand trembling against his thigh, feels teeth in his shoulder, feels the sound Jared makes instead of hearing it.

Fucking amazing.

He can hear Jared’s breathing over his own, fast and ragged. Jared’s arms are shaking. Jensen doesn’t even think, just turns his head and kisses the inside of Jared’s elbow. Salt stings across his lips. Must be from all the kissing before.

He gets another flash of pain as Jared pulls out, but it’s nothing compared to the weight of his limbs, the clean, cool lethargy trickling through him. He can’t remember ever having such a drawn out orgasm. After a moment, Jared settles beside him. There’s not much room in the bed, but Jensen doesn’t mind being skin on skin right after sex, not this time.

That was… Wow. Jensen hasn’t had a lot of sex, but he knows what feels good and what doesn’t, and that was a _very_ positive experience. One he’d like to repeat.

The rest of his brain finally joins him and Jensen barely contains the hitch in his lungs. It’s over. He and Jared have had their… well, trial run wouldn’t be entirely incorrect. But Jensen might as well admit it: he doesn’t want this to be a trial run. If anything, he’s even more infatuated with Jared than before he had sex with him. Jared’s gorgeous and considerate, a little clumsy in some areas of his social life by his own admission, but Jensen’s not the Nobel Peace Prize winner in that area either.

He _wants_ Jared to like him. He wants Jared to like what they did. Despite his experience with other guys, Jensen’s never had a boyfriend before, not in the honest sense of the word. He’s never liked anyone that much. This much. God, what’s he going to do if Jared decides that it was great, it was fun, but not really what he’s up for anymore? He did say he had a thing for Jensen, but Jensen’s had crushes before and he’s not sure how Jared defines it.

“You okay?” Jared asks quietly. He’s still breathing hard.

Jensen coughs. “Recovering.”

Jared lets out a sigh that sounds like it has a thread of relief in it. “Me too. Damn. That was…”

Jensen really, really wishes Jared would finish that sentence. Maybe a prompt is called for? “Good?”

Jared’s up on his elbow before Jensen can blink, staring down at him, wide-eyed. “Good? That was amazing, Jensen!”

His mouth tightens. Jensen thinks he might die a little from the adorableness of Jared chewing his lower lip. “Well, I mean… Did you think it was good?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Was thinking amazing, too.” He’s so tired all of a sudden. Feels like he’s been clenching onto that last hope forever, even though it’s only been an hour at most. He’s not used to its absence.

Jared nods. “Good.” He settles back down on the bed. “Okay.”

Jensen can’t think of a way to verbally broach the million dollar question— _So does this mean we’re together?_ — so he just reaches out and feels around for Jared’s hand. He figures if Jared will let him play with his fingers, that’s a good sign.

Jared not only lets him take his hand, he turns their hands until he can thread their fingers together, then tucks the back of Jensen’s hand over his heart. Jensen can’t help himself. He flips over and presses along Jared’s side, snugging his arm around Jared’s waist. Jared is so warm, slick with sweat and stretched out, long limbs, elegant feet, wide hands. Jensen feels things contract within him, indescribable and only for a moment before they’re gone, leaving him winded.

“You wanna stay?” he asks, and curses himself for not speaking louder. Jared stirs, angles his head to see Jensen properly. Jensen clears his throat. “Uh, for a while?”

For the night. But maybe that’s too much.

“Can I?” Jared asks, just as softly.

“Yeah, I want you to.”

Jared kisses him long and deep, startling Jensen all over again, sucking him back into the sweet haze he was just leaving, the one into which Jared always seems to send him. It’s a couple minutes before he pulls away enough to say, “Yeah, I’d like to stay.”

Jensen lips Jared’s mouth into another kiss, wondering if he’s got enough condoms for what he’d like to do tonight, thinking that Jared is better than a blanket, thinking that this is better than anything he planned, and it’s more than enough for now.

~fin~


End file.
